


Stars Go Blue

by Jkkarste



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Bounty Hunters, Canto Bight, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Mandalorian, Mando, Outer Rim Planets (Star Wars), Romance, Science Fiction, Sensuality, Slow Burn, Star Wars - Freeform, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 48,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jkkarste/pseuds/Jkkarste
Summary: A New Republic spy volunteers her talents on the planet Cantonica. Working under the guise of a waitress, she gathers information from the patrons of the Canto Bight Strip Club, one of the most disreputable establishments in the ever-growing city.While working another Friday night shift, the Republic agent encounters a mysterious customer,  a man clad head to toe in prized metal armor.Although skeptical of the stranger's rugged demeanor, she finds herself interested in his purpose at the club, and the two strike up an interesting (and intimate) conversation...
Comments: 25
Kudos: 24





	1. The Club

**Author's Note:**

> *This story takes place a few years before the Mandalorian's adventures with the Child*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sky and Mando’s first meeting is just *chef’s kiss*  
> Teasing an awkward Mandalorian is GOALS

“Another night,” says the Twi’lek, speaking to me in between drags of a cigarette.

“Mm,” I respond, nodding faintly in agreement.

It indeed is another night, the sun had faded behind the tall buildings, and a dark haze forms over the bustling city. I am leaning against a lamppost in the backlot of the Canto Bight Strip Club, the same ritual I had done on most nights while waiting for my shift to begin.

It had been a hot day on Cantonica, but a coolness begins creeping through the air, as the sun disappears entirely against the horizon. The slight chill felt good on my bare skin, nipping at my exposed shoulders and collarbone. The outfit I had chosen for the night was not particularly modest, but then again, modesty was pretty hard to come by on this planet.

Canto Bight was becoming known for its extravagance, growing into a haven of luxury and decadence for wealthy tourists, gamblers, and war profiteers. The majority of rich folk spent their time and money at the casino and racetracks. Those looking for other forms of entertainment would usually find their way here.

I take a moment to focus on the subtle red glow of her cigarette as Sashev inhales, watching the smoke roll out from her lips, as she lets out a puff. I take a breath in, and let out a small sigh. The aroma of the cigarette smells good. It gives me a sense of familiarity, which I find comforting in the moment.

This place has become very familiar to me within the past few months. I’m already increasingly aware of all the quirks that make the club what it is, along with the predictable mannerisms of both the employees and clientele. Sure, it wasn’t the safest and most secure location within the Canto Bight city limits, but hey, I was used to it. Hell, it had become routine to me. The drunken skirmishes, arguments over money and girls, and deplorable behavior was so commonplace, it seemed almost mundane.

“I’m going to head inside, girly, I’ll catch up with you later,” Sashev says to me, tossing down her cigarette and stomping the lit part out with her black platform heel.

I look up at her slim blue face and nod.

She smiles, turns around, and opens the door to go in.

I sigh again, realizing her departure means our shift is about to begin.

I take another look at the twinkling lights of the casino up on the hill, and raise my head upwards to the night sky. Shades of magenta, turquoise, and blue appear, trails of a nebula intertwining together, dancing its way through the clouds.

 _There’s still beauty up there_ , I remind myself.

Slowly lowering my gaze, I turn around, opening the door to head inside. I walk down the building’s maintenance hallway, my silver heels clicking against the hard floor. My stride matches the beat of the techno music I can hear playing on the main stage. The heels I had chosen were fairly tall, but I knew I could still outrun anyone in this place. After all, being a spy for the New Republic meant I may need to make a quick getaway at any moment, which I was always ready for.

I make my way into the dressing room, the varying scents of perfume hitting my nose as I lift back the curtain. The girls on shift are doing last-minute touch ups, spritzing more hairspray into their curls, leaning into mirrors checking their lipstick, tightening their heel straps a notch more. I walk in and check myself over in one of the floor length mirrors.

The baby blue satin teddy I had chosen to wear shined back at me, and where my plunging neckline exposed my tan skin, I catch the shimmer of glitter. My blonde hair rests in gentle curls just above my shoulders. I allow myself to smile a bit as I do a twirl for the mirror.

 _Not bad_ , I think to myself.

I was scheduled to be a server at the club tonight. Typically, they schedule me to switch back and forth between bartending and serving. This means I have easy access to much of the conversation that flows through the club. When people drink, they talk. When people continue to drink, they talk even more, forgetting inhibitions and letting secrets slip off their tongues. I was good enough at the job that many patrons would speak directly to me. First about their own problems, then problems they had with other people, more often than not including names and locations in their babbling. There could not be a more perfect place to gather intel.

This Friday night was no exception. Customers from all star systems filtered into the club, as the atmosphere began to warm with the amount of bodies inside. The air hummed with muddled conversation in all different tongues of man and creature.

I got in the rhythm of serving drinks to my tables while keeping an ear open for any conversations that may be of interest. I always tried to serve the section of tables farther away from the stage, as it was difficult to hear much of anything between the raucous hollering and whistling coming from that direction.

The club consists of a large main room in the front, private bedrooms down the hallways that could be rented out, and an upscale VIP section located in the back. This area is reserved for the lavish parties of the richest costumers who had money to spend. The rooms ooze opulence and pomp, a perfect place for the affluent in society to show off their wealth.

“Here you go gentlemen, and just let me know if you need anything else,” I say, as I sit two handles of beer down for the men in front of me.

I flash a full smile at them both, and in return, they smile, subtly eyeing my small frame up and down as I turn to walk towards the bar.

I had grown used to that sort of attention over the past months, especially in a place like this. Getting looked at, touched, grabbed, and hollered at by the unsavory patrons of this establishment was so normal to me, I was nearly numb to it now.

I also knew I was capable of dealing with these assholes myself, especially the handsey ones who didn’t like to take “no” for an answer, but I had to try to keep a low profile while I was here. Couldn’t have the wrong people catching on to what my real purpose was in this place.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey Khoan, how’s it looking tonight?” I ask the bartender, as I saunter over to the edge of the bar, leaning my elbows down on it and letting my feet leave the ground for a moment.

“Oh you know, it’s going,” he responds back to me, quickly running a hand through his jet black curls. He looks up at me as he begins to mix a drink, and winks. The shimmer of his silver eyeliner catches the light, enhancing the exotic features of his face even more.

I flash a quick smile back at him, as he continues shaking his drink and pouring it into a martini glass.

Not wanting to bother him too much while he’s busy, I take a moment to glance around the room at the Friday night crowd.

The vibes are good, so far. No fights, no one has been dragged outside, and no shrieks from the girls up on the dance platform, meaning no one has tried to get too close, yet.

Each section of the main club area has its own bouncer overlooking it. They stand silent and intimidating. This place actually does a pretty decent job of keeping folks safe, and security is always quick to end anything that may result in carnage. No one has been shot to death in weeks. As far as strip clubs go, this place isn’t the worst of them.

I snap out of my thoughts as I feel a tingle on my left shoulder.

I look up to find the source of the cool air, and realize it is one of the main doors being opened by a bouncer. A man steps inside, or what I believe to be a man, covered head to toe in smooth metallic armor. He is wearing a chiseled helmet with a small t-zone visor where his eyes should be. His helmet moves back and forth as he surveys the room.

There is a slight hush that comes over the area, as patrons closest to the door take note of him as well.

Khoan comes up behind me, leaning over the bar towards my ear.

“Wow, that is some shiny-ass armor,” he remarks, not taking his eyes off the man.

“It’s beskar,” I reply, continuing to stare at the stranger as well.

“Beskar?” Khoan asks.

“He’s a Mandalorian,” I state.

The movement of the man’s helmet hitches, and he quickly turns his head towards me. From what I can guess, he’s looking right at me.

“Uhh I think he heard you,” Khoan chuckles, sliding back off the bar and going back to his drinks.

I realize I am staring at the Mandalorian, who seems to still be looking in my direction as well. I finally avert my eyes and turn back to the bar.

“I’m going to go see if he wants anything to drink” I say towards Khoan, as I push off the bar and begin walking over to the entrance.

“Hey there!” I say, loudly yet friendly, as I walk up to the Mandalorian, who continues to stand at the entrance, looking a little lost. Or perhaps, looking for someone in particular who he hasn’t found yet.

His helmet cocks down at me as I approach. He’s fairly tall, and I look up in order to match his gaze.

“Could I interest you in a seat and a drink?” I ask, gesturing over to an open table in my section near the back of the club.

He says nothing to me, but begins walking over to the table I had pointed out. I follow behind him slowly.

More and more patrons stop their chattering as we walk by, and their conversations shift to remarks about the strange man and his armor. Some glance up and back down nervously, others follow us sinisterly with their eyes as he makes his way to the table. He seemingly takes no notice of the stares, but it makes me slightly uncomfortable.

He sits down and leans back in his chair, stretching out his legs. His boot hits my foot, and I realize I came up to the table a little too closely.

“Oop, sorry,” I say, as I take one step backward, embarrassed at my atypical clumsiness.

“Well um, you’ve made quite an entrance here, coming in with all that beskar on,” I remark to him.

His helmet shifts up at me, then back down into the crowd.

“I mean uh…I’m sure you can take care of yourself though, if you really are a Mandalorian,” I say, trying to maintain a pleasant demeanor.

His helmet makes no movement, although I know he heard me.

“Anyway…what can I get you to drink?” I finally ask again.

“I’m looking for information,” the Mandalorian replies, continuing his gaze into the crowd.

“Erm, alright, well I may be able to help you with that. But I’m going to have to insist you order a drink as well, so these guys don’t get upset about you wasting a table.”

I wag my thumb over my shoulder at the bouncer nearest to us. He leers over at the Mandalorian, his stance indicating mild annoyance.

The Mandalorian looks over my shoulder at the bouncer, a small sigh coming through his modulator.

“Fine,” he says.

I make no reply, instead walking towards the bar to get a drink for him of my choosing. If he’s going to be rude, I’m deciding to skip pleasantries altogether.

“Hey Khoan, toss me a pint of Spotchka!” I yell towards him, squeezing my way through the crowd and stopping at the end of the bar.

“Got it love!” He replies, quickly filling up a mug of the neon blue liquid, and sliding it down the bar towards me. I catch it in my hand and throw him a nod of thanks. He winks back.

I turn and head back to the table, and set down the pint in front of the Mandalorian.

“Here you go, _sir_ ,” I say to him, annoyed at his stoic temperament.

He looks at the mug, making no response, and returns his gaze back into the crowd. I know he doesn’t really want it, but it still irritates me that he doesn’t say thank you.

“I need information,” he says to me again, not meeting my eyes.

“What kind of information?” I grab the seat next to him and flip it around, so it is directly facing him. I sit down on the chair, obscuring his eye sight into the crowd.

He finally shifts his helmet to look at me, cocking his head sideways. He seems to be surprised I made such an intrusive move.

“I’m looking for someone,” he states, keeping his gaze on me for once.

“There’s no doubt about that,” I remark, remembering the way he had been surveying every part of the room when he first walked in.

He reaches down into his pocket and pulls out a bounty puck, placing it on the table and clicking the button. The puck illuminates, the light reflecting a blue hue off of his beskar. I recognize the face glowing back at us, but decide to withhold my knowledge, wanting to first learn more about the man sitting next to me. I lean my arms down on the table and pull closer to the Mandolorian’s chair.

“So you’re a bounty hunter?” I ask, looking up at his visor.

He looks at me, then looks back down to the puck. This seems like an acknowledgement.

“Guild?” I inquire.

He nods.

Bounty hunters frequent the Canto Bight Strip Club a lot. Most are looking for easy targets with very expensive rewards. There is no shortage of rich, drunk idiots on the run for tax evasion, fraudulent checks, or skipping out on payments to their lenders. Many of those idiots flock to places like this. And where shit ends up, flies will follow.

I have had my fair share of run-ins with hunters, and they are more than willing to play nice in order to get information from the locals. I mean, what’s better than getting paid for an easy bounty, all while enjoying a drink with a pretty girl dancing on you?

This Mandalorian, however, doesn’t seem like he enjoys taking part in the hospitality this place has to offer. It’s not that he looks uncomfortable… just tense, perhaps. I’ve quickly figured out it’s difficult to read someone whose entire body and face are covered in steel.

“Look, I can help you out, but you’re gonna have to actually pretend like you’re enjoying yourself here, before you get hauled outside,” I say to him, as I flash my eyes back to the bouncer.

“Meaning what?” He asks me, turning off the bounty puck and putting it back in his pocket.

“Just…try and relax a bit,” I tell him, getting up off my chair and moving it out of the way. I walk to the side of the Mandalorian as he sits, looking up at me. I take my hand and reach out, putting the tips of my fingers against his leather knuckles, and begin tracing my way down his glove.

Quick as lightning, he catches my arm with his other hand, startling me enough that I yelp.

“ _What are you doing_?” he demands, not easing his grip on my arm.

My face flushes hot with anger as I rip my arm away from him. I reach down angrily and grab him by the wrist, a part of him that is not covered by armor. I knew I needed to keep it toned down while working, but he was raising my temper, and I wanted to make sure he felt the pressure of my grip.

“I am trying to do my job, Mandalorian,” I spit back at him, staring daggers into his helmet.

He tries to move his wrist from my grasp, and realizes he needs to use a bit of strength to do so. He rips away, his hand making a loud bang on the table where his beskar hits.

The bouncer who has been watching us makes a move toward our table, but I motion him away.

“It’s fine!” I call out to him.

He nods, satisfied with my answer, and goes back to glowering in the corner.

I close my eyes for a moment and sigh, releasing the tension in my body and letting go of the anger that had momentarily filled me. I look down at the Mandalorian.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Mando,” I say, emphasizing the shortened name, hoping he’ll acknowledge that I’m going to play nice.

I lean my backside onto the table and cross my arms, still facing him at an angle. As I settle into my stance, my right knee touches up against the metal on his right thigh. I make no attempt to move it. He makes no more sudden moves either, indicating that he’s also decided to calm down.

“You’re looking for Silas Shif, that’s who was on the bounty puck you showed me,” I say in a hushed tone.

“Yes,” he replies.

“Mmm,” I go over in my head what I should say to him next. “Well, you’re out of luck tonight, he’s not here.”

The Mandalorian looks around the room again.

“The coordinates led me here,” He says, flashing his helmet up towards me.

He thinks I’m lying.

“You’re in Canto Bight, Mando, there’s a shit ton of people clogging up every inch of this city. Wires can easily get crossed.”

“Hmph,” He grunts, rolling his head back in annoyance.

Although I remain skeptical of him, I decide to help out, wondering if I can play this bounty to my favor.

“There’s no doubt Silas is around. He doesn’t usually come in until Saturday’s, and even when he is here, he stays in the private rooms in the back. If you don’t have business back there, it’s going to make it even more difficult for you to get to him.”

I cock my head to the side, searching his helmet for a sign that he’s going to speak.

He says nothing.

I continue to turn the wheels in my mind, and decide to let him in on my secret.

For some reason, even after our heated exchange, I feel comfortable telling him. I lower my voice even more, and lean closer to him.

“I can help you with this bounty. I work for the New Republic as a spy. I have been stationed here to gather intel on any open enemies to the Republic. I work directly with the Sector Rangers assigned to this planetary system.”

Mando looks at me up and down, and I realize he’s silently commenting on my wardrobe.

“Okay yeah, I know I don’t _look_ like a spy, but that’s the whole _point_ , Mando,” I say, rolling my eyes at him. “The disguise works well.”

“I can imagine,” he says back to me, raising his head up to meet my eye line.

I feel my cheeks flush slightly, and turn away for a moment to gather my thoughts.

“Anyway…I volunteered my talents to the Rebel Alliance a couple years back. When the remnants of the Empire grew stronger and became more widespread, the New Republic sent forces to planets in the Outer Rim. I grew up on Coruscant, and I…I lost much of my family back when Order 66 hit the capital. I lived in fear within that city for many years, until my mother sent me into the protection of the Rebel fleet. They took me in and trained me to help their cause.”

I look down at the table as I ramble, getting lost in my thoughts.

I have been working on forgetting the most difficult parts of my past, pushing my memories deep within myself. Nonetheless, I feel a tinge of pain as I think back to when I was young, running around in the temple gardens with my brothers, playing Knights versus Droids with sticks and rocks. I remember sitting on my father’s lap during All Saints Week, watching as the city sky filled up with the most colorful kites, sun shining down against my skin. I can still hear his soothing voice ringing in my ear, “ _Never stop looking up._ ”

I snap out of my day dream when I hear Mando speak.

“I’m surprised the New Republic operates in places like _this_ ,” He states, looking around the room, his helmet shifting back and forth.

“ _Exactly,_ ” I reply, gaining my focus back. “It’s the perfect cover for me. Nobody expects it.”

“Hmm,” was the only reply from him. He stares off into the distance.

“I will help you get to the back rooms tomorrow, as long as I can speak to Silas before you…do whatever it is you’re going to do with him,” I say, turning my eyes to face his helmet once again.

He meets my gaze.

“What do you want from Silas Shif?” he asks inquisitively.

“Some of the most powerful crime syndicates have bases of operation within the Corporate Sector,” I explain to him. “Silas is a known associate of Baron Tagge, one of the wealthiest men in the entire galaxy. The New Republic has no doubt both men are affiliated with Crimson Dawn. Although Baron Tagge is retired from his Imperial service, we believe he may know where some of these bases are located. If I can get to Silas, perhaps I can get to Tagge.”

Mando crooks his head to one side, as if trying to process what I had just told him.

“You’re planning on going after Ulrich Tagge, one of the most powerful men in the galaxy?” he asks me, holding my eye line.

“If I can get to him, I just need to ask him a few questions,” I say nonchalantly, pretending I am not intimidated by the task.

“Well good luck with that,” he says casually, shifting his helmet away from my eyes.

“ _Thanks_ ,” I huff back at him.

He grunts, stifling a laugh.

“If you really want my help with your bounty, you should come back tomorrow around the same time,” I say to him. “Silas always goes right to the exclusive VIP rooms when he arrives. We will need to get you back there without…trouble.”

“How do _we_ do that?” he asks, tilting his head up to me again.

“Well, this is a place of enjoyment. You need to make it look like you are actually pleased to be here, or else they won’t let you back in tomorrow,” I say to him, trying to come up with a plan of how to make this work, since he doesn’t seem eager to play along.

He continues to look at me and says nothing.

I raise myself from my leaning position, pushing my backside off the table, and start reaching out towards Mando’s glove again. I am nervous, and I’m worried it’s showing on my face. I gently press my fingertips onto the leather, and slide my hand slowly up his forearm, tensing up a bit, as I expect him to grab me once more.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he turns his head back into the crowd, as if not wanting to acknowledge what I’m doing.

My delicate fingers make it up to the beskar plate on his arm. Despite the temperature inside the club being uncomfortably warm, the metal remains cool to the touch. I trace my way up to his pauldron, walking around the back of his chair. I extend my other arm out, placing it on his left shoulder. When I am fully standing behind him, I rest both hands on his shoulders for a moment.

He continues to not move, seemingly doing a good job of ignoring me.

I move my hands inward on both his shoulders, resting them on the rough fabric in between his shoulder plates and helmet. I give my hands a solid squeeze, feeling his flesh through the cloth as I slowly begin massaging.

Somehow, he seems to both tense up and relax at the same time.

“It’s okay,” I whisper down to him, closing the gap between my face and his helmet.

I give him a few more squeezes, and continue walking around to his other arm, letting my hand trail down his armor and onto his glove.

He finally looks up at me when I stop in front of him, close enough to where my knees are touching his own.

“You done?” He asks.

I let out a sigh.

“I’m still the one doing all the work here,” I say down at him, furrowing my brows. “You have to show that you like it, you have to initiate somethi-”

Before I can say anything more, I see his hands flash towards my legs. The quick motion scares me, and I jump, letting out a slight yelp.

In one fluid motion, the Mandalorian puts both his arms between my legs, simultaneously spreading them apart while lifting me up off my feet. Before I even understand what’s happening, I find myself straddling his lap, my legs wedged apart by his thighs. The coldness of the beskar touching my bare skin sends a shiver down my spine.

“Ah!” I gasp out loud, drawing eyes from tables in our proximity.

I try gaining control of my body once again, instinctively wrapping my arms around the back of his neck for balance. My face is mere inches away from his helmet, and I can hear his breath faintly through his modulator. I try to calm my breathing down as I sit there, my eyes out of focus, blankly staring behind his shoulder.

He turns his head, gently knocking his helmet into my chin. The coolness of the beskar feels good, and I close my eyes, letting my face rest on the metal for a moment.

“Good enough?” he asks, pulling his head back from me.

I open my eyes and let out an awkward, breathy laugh.

“Haha, yeah, I think you sold it to them,” I say back, finally getting my breathing under control.

“Good,” he replies, standing up out of his chair.

Instead of letting my legs fall, I go to wrap them fully around his waist. I catch myself before that, realizing the little show he put on is over. I put my legs down and unwind my hands from the back of his neck. Instead of letting me plop to the ground, he grabs the sides of my waist, setting me down with ease.

I take a step back from him and clear my throat, brushing a piece of hair back that had fallen in front of my eyes.

“Ahem…alright, well, if you have a mind to come back tomorrow for that bounty, I’ll be here to help,” I say to him, shaking off my nerves and looking up into his helmet. “But remember our agreement,” I add, raising my lips into a sly smile.

He looks down at me and nods once, taking a credit out of his pocket and flipping it into the air with his thumb.

“For the drink,” he says, turning to walk toward the exit.

Before it can land on the table, I snatch it clean out of the air with my hand.

“Hey Mandalorian!” I call out, a hint of playfulness in my tone.

He stops and turns around to look at me.

I flip the coin high into the air back at him.

He easily catches it with a quick movement of his glove.

“It’s on the house tonight.”


	2. The Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sky’s moment with Mando’s blaster (no really, his actual gun) KILLS ME

“Hey, you good?” I can hear Khoan’s voice, sounding so very faint and far away.

I snap out of my blank state, as I see a shadow pass through my eye line. I adjust them back into focus and raise my head up.

Khoan stops waving his hand in front of my face, and frowns.

“You don’t look that great”, he says to me, putting his arm back down by his side.

“I’ll be fine”, I say, hearing the grogginess sneak up through my vocal cords. I blink slowly a few times, and feign a smile at him in assurance.

“Alright girl, just making sure you’re gonna get through the night”, he says sincerely. He reaches out to take the glass that I’ve been holding in my hand. “I’ll work on cleaning these while you take a minute”, he says, coaxing it out of my grasp and returning it to the sink.

He glances up at me and winks.

I manage a half smile, knowing he deserves a full one for being so patient with me tonight.

I am _tired_.

I had suffered another long night of logging coordinates and sending out contact information to the base. The operator I dealt with on the other end needed to take a lesson in patience from my friend. I don’t know where they find these people, honestly. The exhausting shift at the club had slowed my input speed down, and this woman sure as hell let me hear about it. She spent most of her time huffing, puffing, and grunting her way through my reports, as I read them off to her half in a daze. As if she had anything better to do at that base.

Ugh, I _hate_ feeling this way. And I hate even more how much this double life has run me down, especially over the past couple of weeks, to the point where it has begun to affect me at this job.

I look over as Khoan is calmly taking orders from the increasing amount of customers hovering around that end of the bar.

I sigh, knowing how fortunate I am to have him working back here with me tonight.

Khoan is good enough at this gig that he doesn’t really need my help, but I know he appreciates the company, even though I am a poor excuse for it right now.

My body registers that someone has walked up to my side of the bar. I try to blink my eyes out of sleepiness, preparing to use my “happy” voice and take their order. I look up.

“What’ll it be toni-”

My words are cut short in my throat, as I look at the dark figure in front of me. I am met with my own warped reflection staring back at me through a beskar helmet. I feel goosebumps trickle their way up to the surface of my skin.

“OH! It’s-uh, it’s you”, I struggle to get the words out, as I take in the sight of the Mandalorian. I can see patrons close to the bar unnerved by his presence, shifting in their chairs and falling into a hushed silence.

He stares at me and stays unmoving, a harsh contrast from the lively events going on throughout the club on this Saturday night. Strobes of light bounce off his chiseled jawline, as his helmet remains fixed on my face.

I wait for some kind of acknowledgement from him. A head nod, a simple “hello”, a wave, him pointing his blaster in my face for chrissakes.

He remains still.

I hadn’t forgotten about our arrangement from last night, but the tiredness that clung to every fiber of my body was overwhelming me at the moment.

“Just um, jus-, just give me a second”, I stammer, quickly flashing my eyes towards the other side of the bar, not wanting his silent stare to be on me any longer.

My heels click on the floor as I walk towards Khoan, motioning him with my hand to meet me in the middle.

“Hey, I have a customer I have to, um, attend to, are you okay up here alone?” I awkwardly ask him, trying to shake my body into alertness.

A furrow forms in his brow as he flashes his eyes up, and he catches sight of the Mandalorian.

“Ohhhhh, it’s him again” he says, and a slight smile begins forming on his lips, taking the place of the concerned look he had a second ago. “Okay girl, well go do your thing”, he says playfully to me, gently tapping me on the shoulder to show his support.

“Err, uh, it’s not like that Khoan, it’s um…you know, for business reasons”, I stutter, trying to sound at least half way convincing. My heart starts racing as my cheeks blush in embarrassment.

 _Well, at least I’m awake now,_ I mutter in my head.

“You know I’m good up here alone, you do whatever you need to do babe, just be safe”, he says in earnest, locking his eyes with my own to show he actually means it.

I nod at him gratefully and turn back towards the bar.

The Mandalorian is now scanning the room as intently as he had been last night. He seems focused, and he holds himself with intention. I can see why costumers are uncomfortable with his intimidating figure.

He isn’t incredibly tall by any means, nor is his frame heavily built. But something about the way he carries himself, the poise he bears in his shoulders, how he shifts his keen glance slowly from side to side, makes him seem like the most dangerous individual in this establishment. I wonder if he knows how others feel in his presence. If he can sense the thick tension that builds in the air when he walks into a room.

He must know. He must know, and he must use it to his advantage whenever he can.

As I make my way towards him, his helmet flashes back in my direction.

I clear my throat and nod my head towards two empty seats at the end of the bar, signaling him to join me there.

We both make our way to the chairs. He beats me there, taking his seat and leaning his arms over the bar top, the metal clanking against the surface. He watches me as I slide in next to him, shifting my hips up and down as my leather pants stick to the chair. I settle in to the seat and exchange a glance with his helmet.

He finally speaks.

“Where is the bounty?” he says sternly into my face.

The way his voice vibrates off the filtered helmet sends a warm tingle through my stomach. It’s so deep, intense, all business. I don’t remember him sounding this way yesterday. It’s like he turned a switch in his helmet to make himself speak in a lower octave.

I shake off my nerves, and instead of responding right away, I lift up my hand, reaching out to rest it gently on the top of his glove.

He tenses up, and I can feel that he is about to pull away. Only this time, I anticipate his response.

In a quick motion, I grab his hand to prevent it from moving any farther, and grip it tightly, slamming it back down on the table.

The sound of the thud makes us both jump.

The Mandalorian twists his helmet toward me in anger, but he does not tear away from the grip of my fingers.

“Stop,” I say to him, attempting to hide the shakiness in my voice. “Just stop."

I hear a huff come through his modulator as he shakes his helmet back and forth.

“Remember, I told you last night that you needed to make it look like you were interested in this,” I remind him, motioning my eyes towards our intertwined hands. “Remember?” I repeat again, softening the tone in my voice in an attempt to relax both of our nerves.

I feel his body slink down in his chair as he loosens up his tense arm.

“I remember”, he says back to me plainly.

Although the beskar is cool to the touch, my hand is white hot as it rests on top of his. My thoughts drift back to last night, when he had let me trace my hands up and down the length of his upper body. When he whisked me off of my feet and made me straddle him in the chair. When he set me down gently on the floor, his gloves firmly planted around my waist.

I feel the heat from my body rise and plant itself firmly onto my cheeks. I quickly untangle my fingers from his hand and pretend to rub my face, hoping the lighting in the room will help cover any redness showing through.

 _Why am I feeing this way?_ I think to myself, cursing the fact that my sleep deprivation has left me in an apparent vulnerable state.

I am happy when he decides to speak again, breaking the tension that surrounds me.

“So what’s the plan exactly?”

I shake off my leftover thoughts from last night, and get back into focus, remembering my promise to help him out with his quarry.

“Okay, so Silas is in the VIP room in the back. In order to get to him, we will first need to get into one of the bedrooms. There are hidden doors in all the rooms that staff can access at any time with a code. I can get us through the corridor that leads to one of the VIP entrances…” I trail off towards the end as I explain.

“Let’s go”, he resolves suddenly, and stands up to leave his chair.

“Wait!” I catch him by the arm before he is fully upright, and tug him back down to sit.

He plops back down on the chair and hitches his head toward me.

 _“What?”_ he sighs out in frustration.

“It’s more complicated than that”, I continue explaining to him, keeping my hand clasped under his forearm. “Once we get back there, security is tight. There are no weapons allowed in the bedrooms, and there are many guards patrolling the hallways. We have to maintain the illusion that we are just back there to have fun. That way, I can slip through the door in our-uhm, _the_ room, and get you back to the VIP entrance.”

I study his visor for a sign of acknowledgement.

It lifts up and down as he nods at me.

I realize my hand is still gripping under his arm, and he hasn’t tried to move away from my hold. It’s such a small gesture, such a slight touch, and yet, to me, the connection is very comforting. It seems he’s finally accepted my close proximity to him, and maybe he’s…okay with it? Okay that I’ve invited myself into his personal bubble and haven’t left it yet? Okay with the way my hand clasps around his metal arm and holds steady?

My straying thoughts are interrupted by his low voice.

“Anything else?”

“Er, um, yeah”, I begin again, looking up from my hand on his arm and back to his face. “There is a lone security guard outside of the entrance, but I know him, and he should be willing to let us through. Once we get in, I-um, I-”

“What is it?” he asks me, cutting me off from my sputtering.

“I…I’ve only been past the entrance and into the main area of that room, briefly. I don’t know the exact layout, or what sort of personal security the VIP clients have with them. They could be armed, there could be a lot of them…I’m, I’m just not sure.” I falter as I begin to realize this may be more difficult than I thought.

“I’ll handle it”, he says resolutely, speaking with no indication of fear or stress.

“But, you won’t be armed”, I say back to him, my worry further increasing at the situation we are about to get into.

He shifts his head downwards as if he’s looking at his chest, and my eyes follow. His helmet cocks downwards towards his boots as I also look down. He brings it back up to meet my face.

“Oh, I get it”, I say to him, a tinge of annoyance coming through my voice, as I register what he’s implying. “Let me guess, you don’t need a gun, because _you_ are the weapon.”

He shrugs his shoulders up and down, a casual movement that doesn’t match with the rigid, clanky armor shifting around his body.

I shake my head at him. “Okay, whatever Mando, I’m still not letting you do this all alone. I need to be back there with you, in case anything happens”.

This time, he looks me up and down, trailing his gaze over my body. He did this to me last night, as he silently judged the outfit I was wearing.

Tonight though, I went a bit more industrious with my clothing choice.

The all-black ensemble hugs tightly to my body, the silky bustier top complimenting well with the leather skinny jeans. The black heels are shorter than I typically wear, allowing for a little more quickness if needed.

My silver necklace is the only thing that stands out from the rest of the dark outfit. The diamond bead in the middle separates two long ends of a metal rope, which hang near my stomach. The bead can be adjusted up and down, and tonight, I have it fastened to hug tightly around my neck. It sparkles in the pulsating lights of the club, enhancing the tan skin around my décolletage. I’m glad I remembered to slip it on in the midst of my tiredness earlier. I love it, it is something so subtle, yet makes a statement.

I tug on the dainty chains as Mando finishes his once over on me, lifting his head back to my eye line.

I tilt my head sideways. “I know it might not look like it, but I can hold my own in this outfit. It’s actually easy to move in”.

I take my hand off his arm and twist my hips in my chair, holding up my elbows and swinging them back and forth, trying to prove it to him.

His head rolls back as he lets out a huff. Although not a laugh, the sides of my lips still rise up in a smile, happy to see that he continues to relax in my presence.

“Are you ready?” I ask him through my smile, bringing my hand back up to his arm and resting it for a moment.

He looks down at my small hand, looks back up, and nods.

“Lead the way”, he says, standing up and sliding off his chair, clunking down onto the floor in front of me.

He extends his arm out, flipping his hand over so his leather palm is reached out towards me. Slowly, I set my hand into his, and let my fingers tangle through the sticky cloth of his glove. He pulls me off my chair and guides me to the ground. My heels clack against the floor as I jump down, planting my feet next to him.

We nod in sync with each other, hands intertwined, as we make our way to the back of the club.

\----------------------------------------------------

“Remove your weapons, please”, says the bouncer, eyeing the Mandalorian as we stand there at the entrance of the hallway. I see him puff out his chest a bit more, trying to look intimidating in the presence of the beskar-clad man, who is still holding my hand.

Mando hesitates, not liking the idea of leaving his weapons in the care of anyone but himself.

 _“Now”,_ the guard demands, shoving his pointer finger down onto the table, indicating where the gun needs to be set.

I flash a bright smile towards the man, and give Mando a soft nudge with my shoulder in encouragement.

He looks down at me and lets out a sigh, finally acquiescing to the demand.

He reaches down and unholsters his blaster from his thigh, twirling it twice in the air with ease before setting it down on the table.

“Please take good care of that for us, sir”, I say politely, holding the coy grin on my face.

He huffs at us as I begin to walk, leading the Mandalorian by the hand.

“Hey, hold it!” the bouncer shouts, stepping in front of us and holding his hand out in warning.

“What is it?” I ask calmly, placing my other arm on Mando’s chest to keep him from walking straight through the man.

He points up and down Mando’s body. “The armor, it needs to stay up here too”.

I immediately feel Mando’s body tense up under my hands. Before he can rip the guy’s head off, I step in and speak.

“Uh actually, I want it to stay on”, I explain to the guard, flashing him a wink and patting the metal plate covering Mando’s chest. “It’s, you know…kinky”, I push out the words, hoping both of them accept the bullshit that just came out of my mouth.

The guard looks at me quizzically, then up at the Mandalorian, squinting his eyes in judgement.

Mando takes his arm from his side and wraps it around my waist, jerking me close to his hip. The move doesn’t take me by surprise as it did last night, yet the skin under his gloved hand begins to burn at his touch.

 _“Fine”,_ puffs the guard, as he takes a step sideways out of our path. “Room 9."

“Thank you!” I call out to him, as I quickly hop towards the room, dragging the Mandalorian by the hand.

I wave at the guard standing near the doorway of our room. He smiles at me and reaches out to open the door for us. I smile in return and pull Mando quickly into the bedroom, eagerly shutting the door behind me.

I put my back against the door for a moment, close my eyes, and let out a loud sigh. It feels like I’ve been holding that breath in my lungs ever since the Mandalorian stepped into the club tonight.

I open my eyes and am met with him standing in the middle of the room, looking back at me. His silhouette looks completely out of place, the harsh lines of his bulky armor clashing with the multitudes of red and black satin curtains hanging down from the ceiling and canopy. I continue to stare at the awkward image in front me of, realizing how stiff his body has become.

God, he is probably so uncomfortable right now. Having to be back here like this, having to listen to the shrieks and moans seeping through the walls, feeling the vibrations of bed posts hitting against the sides of the room. Enjoyment and pleasure surround us on every side, and here he is, in the middle of it all, just trying to get through the night.

I offer him an understanding smile as I push myself off the door, wanting him to know that I feel the same discomfort as he does.

“I don’t like being back here either”, I say to him gently, walking towards him, my heels dragging on the carpet as I step. “I…don’t come back here with clients, like, ever, really”, I chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

He continues to stand at attention, unmoving, as I square up directly in front of him.

I take both my hands and lift them in front of me, palms up, continuing to smile at him in encouragement.

“I promise I’ll get you through this, Mando,” I say as sincerely as I am able, holding my palms out near his lower chest.

He motions at me with a slight nod, and places his gloved hands into my own.

I slowly step forward, and our hands push into his broad chest plate. I continue walking until he has to start shuffling backward, then we reach the end of the bed. I let go of his hands and raise my arms up to his chest again, gently pushing him down until he is sitting and then falling backward on to the plush mattress. In one fluid motion, I hitch a leg up on the edge of the bed and push up with my other, hopping directly on top of his body. He reaches out his arms and grabs my waist to steady me there.

I am amazed by how accepting he is of the vulnerable state I just put him in. Here is a Mandalorian in full armor, letting me sit on top of him in a bedroom at a strip joint, totally relying on me to help him follow through with this plan. The amount of trust he has been forced to develop for me in such a short amount of time, makes me feel warm.

The heat begins to creep on to my cheeks, as I feel my face flush red. This time, I don’t try to hide it from him. I decide to accept it and let the warmth make its way through the rest of my body. I grab his hands while they are clasped around my waist, and use them to steady myself as I start to move my hips up and down on his lap. 

The Mandalorian tenses up, only this time, I don’t think it’s because he’s uncomfortable. I’m almost positive I hear a hiss rattle through his modulator, but I can barely hear anything over the loud thoughts searing through my own head.

The pace of my moving hips quickens, and I lunge my top half forward, planting my arms on either side of his helmet. My blonde curls fall down into my face as they slowly bounce around my head. I feel the stickiness of his leather gloves travel down my waist and hips. He positions his hands on my ass and pushes downward with them, crushing my lower half against his. The move knocks the wind out of me, and I let out a breathless moan.

“Mando”, I manage to let out between gasps, eagerly adjusting my speed faster against his body. I fully hear him let out a muffled grunt in response to my quickened pace.

 _“Mando,”_ I spill out again breathlessly, excited by his noticeable reaction to my movements. I fall down onto my elbows, my forehead nearly touching his helmet as I stare into his visor. The chains of my necklace ding against the metal on his face, dragging lightly back and forth as we move up and down with each other. I get lost focusing on the silver strands, how delicate and pliable they look against the rigid, metal shell covering his head.

I completely lose myself in the moment, and for that split second, the only thing I desire in the world is to be closer to his face.

I hurriedly reach up towards his cowl and begin clawing my fingers against the cloth around his neck. I curl my fingers under the bottom of his helmet and pull up.

I am met with quick hands falling solidly down on both of my wrists in a vice-grip. A slight pain shoots from my hands up through my shoulders as he takes hold of me, preventing me from lifting the beskar off his head. I let out a slight whimper from the sudden pressure.

 _“No",_ he pushes out the word through shallow breaths. “No.”

Although I can’t see his eyes, it feels like his glare is burning right through me.

“I…can’t”, he goes on, relaxing his grip on my wrists as we both catch up with our breathing.

“I-, I’m so sorry”, I say down at him, filling my lungs up with air as I try to regain my composure. “It’s my fault, I should’ve known better. I forgot, some Mandalorians don’t reveal their faces to others. I didn’t even think to ask you”, I begin to ramble, out of both shame and anger.

I lift myself back up into a sitting position on his thighs. He sits up as well and faces me.

 _How could I let this happen? How could I act this way in front of him? This is not how the Republic trained me._ Anger flashes through my mind as I feel heat return to my cheeks. _How could I be so disrespectful of his creed?_ I break out of my own head as he cuts the silence.

“It’s…it’s okay”, he says. His tone reveals tension, but not anger.

“It’s not okay, Mando. You are here to do a job, and you are putting your trust in me to help you get it done. I shouldn’t have…made you go through that.” I look down at my shaking hands, unable to meet the gaze of his helmet.

He taps me on the leg as he says, “I thought you were just putting on a show for them.”

I look up as his other arm extends and points up to the camera fastened to the ceiling, it’s lifeless black eye staring down at us from above. I finally look back at him, and a small smile curls on my lips.

He was trying to make me feel better.

“You’re right, that’s what we were doing, wasn’t it?” I ask him, hoping for his continued reassurance.

He shoots me a nod in agreement.

The laugh developing in my chest doesn’t get to come out, my breath cut off by a loud bang.

The secret door to our room swings open and a small blue figure hops inside.

Mando launches us both up from the bed, and we land on the floor as he steps in front of me, keeping one hand hovered behind him in a protective stance.

“Sky! There you are!” Sashev exclaims with excitement, shutting the door behind her as she shoots me a brilliant smile.

 _“Sashev”_ , I exhale in relief.

I step around the Mandalorian and run to hug her. We exchange an embrace, and I see her eyes flash behind us, then back to me. Her stare makes me notice how my hair is slightly disheveled, and I realize I can still feel the warmth sitting on the top of my cheeks.

“Uhh, I thought this was a business thing, aren’t we helping this guy with a bounty or something? Or…did you guys decide to um, forego that little venture?” she asks me, curiosity and playfulness filling her voice.

“Yes you’re right Sashev, this is the guy”, I begin explaining to her, slightly embarrassed that she caught us in this state.

“We were just…um, trying to make things look good for the camera”, I sputter out, not knowing if the words are meant to convince her, or myself.

“Alright well, kinda weird you both still have all your clothes on”, she eyes my outfit, then flicks her gaze to the Mandalorian, who remains standing still near the bed.

“Uhhh, yeah, well I’m glad you found us. Let’s go back to the plan I told you earlier”, I try to change subjects, as I start to get back into business mode.

Mando hitches his head at both of us, concern somehow coming through his covered face.

“Mando, this is Sashev, she’s going to help us with our plan to get you back there”. Sashev raises a hand and lazily salutes him.

“I…I thought we might need some extra help. Don’t worry, we can trust her.” She flashes a fanged smile towards him, then looks over at me again.

“He really has a way with words. I can see why you like him”, she remarks, her body shaking up and down in a belly laugh.

I gently roll my eyes at her and catch her by the hand, squeezing it tight. I lock eyes with her and reach my hand out in Mando’s direction. He walks over and stands next to us.

I shoot a look up into his helmet, and snatch his hand with my free one.

“Okay, this is how it’s gonna go down.”


	3. The Bounty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward Mando stripping in front of a bounty? Say no more

“You’re gonna need to explain that to me again, Sky”, Sashev says to me, a tinge of frustration coming through her soft voice. “I don’t get what’s so special about _that_ armor, and why he can’t take it off.”

Her eyes flit back and forth between Mando and myself. I can tell that she really wants him to answer, but he remains silent, leaning himself against one of the bedposts, as Sashev and I share a corner of the mattress.

I fix my gaze on the Mandalorian for a few seconds, my fingers nervously fidgeting with the hanging tufts of a throw pillow. I want to be correct with how I’m explaining things, and I search his helmet for a sign of what I should say. It gives no indication.

 _I wish I could read his face, figure out what he wants me to say. I don’t want anything to come out… wrong._ I rummage through my head as I begin to formulate the thoughts into words, trying my best to sound confident as I speak up.

“Well, from what I understand about Mandalorians, their beskar, er, um, their armor, is very important to them. A lot of the time, it is passed down through many generations. I’ve heard that there are, um, certain groups, that don’t reveal their faces to other living beings. It’s like, against their creed or something. So he…he can’t take his helmet off in front of anyone,” I hope my explanation is sufficient, and I turn my eyes back to the Mandalorian, raising my brow in question.

To my surprise, he speaks.

“If _any_ Mandalorians reveal their faces to another, they are not true Mandalorians”, he says with resolve. “There is only one way, the way of the Mandalore.”

Sashev and I stare quizzically into his helmet, then meet our eyes together. Sashev breaks the quiet with a chuckle.

“Ha! Okay Mando, whatever the hell _that_ means”, she exhales and looks over to me once again. “Look, all I’m saying is, it’s going to be difficult to get our buddy back to the VIP lounge while he’s wearing _that._ ” She motions her hand up and down his body in indication. “I mean, he just looks like he’s here to fuck people up. Do you think Jax will just let him back there with no issues whatsoever?”

Her gaze is still fixed on me, and I can tell in her tone that she is becoming increasingly annoyed.

“I _told_ you, Sashev,” I explain again, matching her irritation, “we are going to tell Jax that Mando, suit and all, is part of the entertainment. He isn’t armed anyway. And besides, Jax adores the both of us. You really think it’s going to be that much of a problem?” I eye her again.

She rolls her eyes backwards and licks her bottom lip. I interpret it as her form of an apology.

“Are we all good with the rest of the plan then? Because we need to get moving”, I say to the both of them.

Mando nods at me.

Sashev flips herself off of the bed and grabs Mando by the arm, pulling him towards the coded door.

“Sure, you got it babe, we’ll see you back there”, she flashes a bright smile at me, then winks at Mando. He turns back towards me, and I swear I see him shake his head slightly. I offer him an apologetic smirk.

Sashev punches in the code and swings the door open. They are both quickly shrouded in darkness as they enter the service hallway and disappear from my view.

I turn around to make my way back to the weapons check. I had argued with the both of them about getting Mando’s blaster back. Mando insisted he did not need it, Sashev insisted they would not give it me, but I held my resolve on the matter. It’s not that I didn’t trust the Mandalorian’s capabilities, but I could not shake the worry of the unknown situation we were about to get ourselves into. Fending off potential gun fire with no guns ourselves seemed a little too daunting for my comfort.

When I reach the guard at security check, he eyes me, as I slink my upper body over the counter and lay my elbows on the table, trying my best to appear flirtatious.

“Where is your armored friend at?” he questions with suspicion. 

I take the ends of my choker and begin twirling them casually through my fingers.

“Let’s just say, I got a little tired of him being so...stiff”, I look up at the guard through my eyelashes, pushing my lips into a pout. “We…helped him out the service door”, I lie, flashing him a smile. He chuckles in response.

“Ha, well I’m glad, I didn’t care for that guy much anyway”, he says, satisfaction coming through his words.

“Well, I thought maybe for my trouble, I could keep his blaster?” I ask him, tapping my thigh with my right arm. “It would look good resting right here, don’t you think?”

He looks down at my thigh, his gaze lingering for a moment, before coming back to my eyes. He nods.

“Yeah sure, just make sure you take it through the back door, don’t want anyone else getting their hands on it.”

I stop myself from breathing a sigh of relief out loud.

“Thank you so much!” I hurriedly take the gun and holster from the table, quickly pecking him on the cheek before skipping down the hallway. I look back and see him blush while shaking his head back and forth.

 _Phew, thank the stars,_ I think to myself, as I burst through one of the back doors, stopping to strap the blaster to my hip.

I notice the sudden quietness as I’m standing in the backlot, fixing the holster straps to my right thigh. Once I cinch them tightly, I find myself staring down at the Mandalorian’s gun.

While weighing it up and down in my hands, I realize the solidly built piece is pretty heavy. I turn it over in my palms to inspect it further. The craftsmanship is simple, yet powerful. To the naked eye, the gun is unassuming, and holds no remarkable qualities. There are no frills, no ornate decorations, no bold colors or intricate detailing. Yet, there is something about it, whether in the weight, the style, or the simplistic nature of it altogether, that makes it _feel_ powerful. The gun doesn’t need to show off, it doesn’t beg for attention, because it has already earned respect. It doesn’t strive to be noticed, to be acknowledged, its mere existence commands authority.

The thoughts running through my head begin shifting from the gun to its owner. I wonder to myself if I’ve actually been describing the Mandalorian this entire time. It’s no surprise to me that this weapon holds the same austere qualities as its bearer. The marked respect that he instantly takes ownership of when he walks into a room. The way he fills each and every space he enters with a silent poise, earning the reverence of all those he surrounds.

I run my hand up and down the smooth barrel, noting the straightforward lines and angles. The metal is hard and cold, like the steel he covers himself with. Just like the gun, his hardened exterior hides the raw strength inside. I run my thumb over the muzzle as I reach the top of the shaft, my thoughts once again taken over by his image.

 _He is the weapon_ , I repeat in my head. _Like all Mandalorians, the armor protects him, but his true power_ _comes from within._

I drag my hand gently back down to the grip, and place my finger on the trigger while bringing the sight up to my eye line. A wave of excitement washes over my body as I stare down the barrel of his gun.

 _His gun_ , I think to myself, a smirk raising on my lips, as I shift my aim towards an illuminated street light. I imagine Mando gripping tightly to the blaster, just as I am doing now. I picture his gloved hand wrapping firmly around it, his pointer finger hovering over the trigger.

Warmth rises from my lower half and brings itself up to my face. The heat now radiating from my skin clashes with the cool breeze of the night, showering my body with goosebumps. I think of him pulling the trigger, the hidden muscles in his arm contracting as he squeezes down on it, firing at his target with deadly accuracy.

A sigh escapes my lips as I let off a shot from the gun. It hits the street lamp with a loud _ding,_ exploding into an array of sparks that trickle down and dissipate before hitting the concrete.

The noise shakes me out of my thoughts and back to reality. I can hear onlookers from the main street grumble past the alleyway, as I bring the gun down to my hip.

 _Okay, back to business,_ I say as a reminder to myself, further tightening his leg brace to my thigh and holstering the gun.

I skip silently to a service door, punch in the code, and slink back inside the club. I make my way hastily to the back entrance of the VIP lounge.

My face alights when I see Jax, who is already expecting me, standing next to the door with his hands held out. I grab them in my own and squeeze tightly.

“Sky! It’s great to see you, I miss you guys up front,” Jax breathes a sigh of comfort as he speaks.

“I know Jax, we miss you too, and I wish I could stay to chat, but Sashev and I have some business back here,” I explain to him, knowing he will understand.

“Yeah, Sashev and your, um, strange friend, are already in there. They pretty much went right backstage when I let them in.” He speaks with a questioning tone in his voice, but I know he won’t pry about what our true intentions are back here.

It is so strange to me that a place like this can contain the most despicable folks in the galaxy, while also being home to some of the kindest individuals I have been lucky enough to meet.

I smile at him while shaking my head.

“Jax, thank you for help tonight. Thank you.”

I squeeze his hands once more in thanks and let go. He holds the door open as I breeze inside.

“Oh, and nice prop gun, it looks cool on you!” he shouts to me. I swing my head back and shoot him a quick wink.

Once fully inside, I am hit with the heavy smell of expensive whiskey and cigars. The lighting is much darker back here than in the front, and I take a moment to let my eyesight adjust to the blue-hued darkness. The music playing is much more subdued than on the main stage. Instrumentals send out a seductive rhythm through the speakers, and the beat vibrates up through the floor. Black velvet curtains hang all around, acting as partitions between each private table. A few guards I do not recognize patrol up and down the hallway that leads to the empty stage and bar. Although I can’t be a hundred percent sure, I make note that they don’t seem to be armed.

I make my way down the hallway, flitting my eyes back and forth into each room as quickly as I am able, trying to get a glimpse of Silas or my friends.

I stop in my tracks when I hear a shrill laugh come from the table next to me. I see Silas for a split second through the opening of the curtain, glass and cigar in his hand, a girl sitting on his lap. There are a few other dancers sitting around him on a plush black couch.

A lump immediately forms in my throat as I catch sight of two guards standing behind him, both armed with blasters.

I look away as to not draw attention to myself, and catch a piece of metal reflecting off the blue strobes of circulating light. I skip to the back of the stage, noting the way the Mandalorian’s helmet glints like moonlight as it catches the moving blue beams.

“I got it, I got the gun you guys,” I huff out, realizing I am slightly out of breath.

“Oh _there_ you are Sky! Really nice work, you pulled it off,” Sashev takes me by the shoulder and shakes me in excitement. I grab her hand and smile, and then I notice her change of wardrobe. She sees my eyes shift to her body, and she spins around in response.

“What do you think? We make a pretty good threesome now, don’t we?” she says playfully, continuing to spin around and smile. Her dress has been replaced with worn down cargo shorts and a crop top. Leather gauntlets cover her wrists, along with a matching leather utility belt hanging off her hips. She has managed to find a prop gun and strapped it to her thigh, mimicking the real one that remains tight on my own.

“Hurry up and change so we can get this show going”, she takes my arm and pulls me towards the open closet filled with clothes and accessories. I stumble as she pulls me and I nearly trip over the Mandalorian’s boot. He has been standing so silently, I had all but forgotten he was there. I find my footing as Sashev throws a shirt at me. I take it awkwardly in my hand and stare up at Mando’s unmoving helmet. Sashev continues rummaging through the mess until she finds a pair of boots she thinks will suit me. She reaches out to hand them to me, and rolls her eyes.

“Oh my god Sky, come on, there’s no time to be shy”, she huffs at me as she grabs at the sides of my black top and yanks up. I yelp in protest, but it’s too late, and she’s already managed to pull my shirt halfway up to my neck. I feel my cheeks immediately flush red at the sudden exposure of my breasts, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Mando’s helmet shift away from us. I shimmy the new top on and stomp the boots on quickly, shaking off my leftover nerves in the process.

“Alright then girls and um, guy, I think we’re ready. Sky, I think we saw Silas in the second table from the stage on the left”, Sashev points towards the location of the table, and I nod.

“Yes, he’s in there with…two armed guards”, I trail off as I look up towards the Mandalorian, seeking some kind of support through his helmet.

“Two against one, I like those odds”, he says, as he turns to face me.

It feels like hours since I've heard the raspiness of his modulated voice, and the words bring me comfort.

I tap the gun on my thigh with my hand, assuring him it’s safe and secure with me.

“Remember, wait for the right moment”, I say, as I stare intently into his visor. He nods at me in acknowledgement.

We make our way slowly down the steps. Sashev signals the bartender with a flick of her wrist, and the song playing through the speakers abruptly cuts off and changes beats. I position myself closer to the Mandalorian as we walk toward the curtain, using his presence to hold on to the feeling of safety I know I am about to lose. I look up at him as my leg brushes against his, and I can feel the uncertainty creeping into my expression. His helmet shifts downwards as he meets my close gaze, and he plants one of his hands on my shoulder, his gloved fingers giving me a gentle squeeze. I reach my hand up and take hold of his outstretched arm, flashing him a short yet sincere smile. I pretend like he’s smiling back at me.

Sashev flings the curtain open and we step into the room. The Mandalorian plants himself directly behind me, and I can feel his chest hovering closely to my back as he breathes slowly in and out.

“Oh, and what is _this_?” I hear an unfamiliar voice say, the tone indicating a curiosity that makes me cringe.

“We are your free entertainment tonight!” Sashev exclaims proudly. She slinks her way into the room fully, dancing her way towards the couch before she falls lazily on the plush cushion. She sprawls out her limbs and lets out a laugh, reaching her arms up towards me and Mando as if she’s showing us off. I hail her for being such a good actress, she really knows how to put on a show.

Silas shoos away the other girls around the table, and they hurriedly skitter out of the room. He focuses his attention fully on the three of us, most notably Mando and I, as we are still standing in the middle of the room.

“Now _this,_ this, is something interesting”, he remarks, running a hand through his greasy hair and taking a puff from his long cigar. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the top of his thighs, as he takes in the sight of us. His gaze makes me twitch uncomfortably, and I have a difficult time playing along with Sashev’s games. I try to force out a smile as I mimick her, doing a twirl of my own as I step to the side.

Silas's eyes don’t even register my movement, he has not taken them off the Mandalorian.

“And who exactly is _this?_ ” he inquires seductively, nodding his head up and down as he drinks in the brooding visage of the steel-clad man.

“This is our special friend for the night, one we got directly from the planet Mandalore itself”, I shock myself as I start to speak up, trying to break the tense vibes filling up the small room.

“A Mandalorian then, how very interesting”, Silas continues, not breaking his focus. “I have never had the pleasure of meeting one of your kind before”, he addresses Mando directly this time.

Mando remains silent and still, standing in the middle of the room without a word.

“It is such a sight to behold, the beautiful craftsmanship of beskar armor, well-fitted on a warrior’s strong body”, Silas muses, flipping his cigar around in his fingers.

I begin to feel uncomfortable once again, but not for myself this time. I break the silent tension radiating from Mando as I step towards him, reaching my arm out and planting my hand on his chest piece.

“Yes, it is truly incredible, isn’t it?” I play along, running my fingers up and down the metal on his breast. “He is incredible”. I look up into Mando’s visor, hoping he can read the assurance I’m trying to give to him through my eyes.

“Indeed”, Silas agrees. “I think I would like to take a better look at it”.

I take a step to the side, my eyes flashing back to Silas, as I try to figure out what he means.

“Take it off”, he demands.

I shoot a nervous glance to Sashev, who perks up on the couch and makes a motion like she’s going to speak, but I cut her off.

“Uhh, well you see, it’s not nearly as fun with the armor off, if you know what I mean”, I say through my teeth, trying to hold a fake smile on my face.

“I want _you_ to take it off him”, Silas motions at me and then back at Mando. “Take it off of him, and let me watch.”

My body lurches slightly as the butterflies in my stomach turn to hornets. I speed run through my thoughts as I figure out what to do, trying my hardest to maintain the illusion.

I decide on my course of action, and plant myself firmly in front of the Mandalorian, my face not even an inch away from his chest. I lift my head up to take in his towering figure, and I reach my hand out to take his glove. He looks down at me and I give him an encouraging smile, hoping he understands what I need to do. I slowly pull at the tip of his fingers, sliding the glove off his hand. I do the same with the other hand, dropping both gloves on the ground at my side. My pupils widen as I take in the first sight of his skin.

His hands look remarkably soft considering his occupation, yet I can sense their strength. The smooth blue veins running up to his fingers match well against the light caramel color of his skin tone. My breath cuts in and out as I try focusing on my task, and I begin making my way up his arms. I unlatch his metal gauntlets and set them on the floor next to his gloves. I do the same with his two pauldrons. I hear Silas behind me, chuckling with pleasure at the display of intimacy happening. I shake myself back into focus, and begin peeling off Mando’s chest plate from his undershirt. It’s heavy as it falls into my hands, and I set it down with a clank next to his other garments.

“Keep going”, I hear Silas encourage, nearly panting through his ragged breaths of excitement. I bring my head up to the Mandalorian again, and stare into his visor knowingly. I cannot see his gaze, but I feel that he understands my next course of action. I reach up with both hands and place them under the sides of his helmet. I pull up gently on the metal, causing a hissing sound to come through his mask, as it unhooks from his head. I take a short breath in and exhale.

“NOW!” I shout the words as Mando reaches swiftly for my left leg, hitching it up against his hip. In one fluid motion, he wraps an arm around me and dips me backward, unholstering his blaster from my right thigh with his free hand. Before anyone else can react, he lets off two quick shots that whiz past my ear, instantly dropping both of the guards with simultaneous thuds.

As I lean my head backward, I see Sashev leap from the couch and spring out of the room, disappearing quickly behind the curtains.

Mando lifts me until I am standing upright again, and I swing around to face Silas. His bug eyes look back and forth between both of his dead guards, his face falling into shock. Before he can make a response, Mando is on him, grabbing him by the neck and hauling him to his feet. Silas flails his arms in an attempt to get away, but Mando pushes him up against the concrete wall and holds him steady. I run up behind Mando as he hands me his gun, and I holster it back to my thigh. Silas squirms under Mando’s vice grip, unable to make any sounds other than painful grunts. Mando takes a free hand and reaches into his pocket, clicking the button on the bounty puck and illuminating the photo in front of Silas’s face.

“Silas Shif, you are wanted by the bounty hunters guild, and I am here to take you in”, Mando’s voice booms with intimidation. Silas tries freeing up his neck, but Mando’s bare hand holds him with ease. “Stop resisting, I am supposed to bring you in warm, but I can also bring you in cold”, Mando continues on, his helmet nodding up and down as he speaks.

A sudden rustle from the curtains makes the three of us jump in surprise. Mando and I both turn to face the entrance as Jax reveals himself to us, panting and out of breath.

“Hey Sky, I-uh-I got everyone out the back door just like Sashev asked me to, I just wanted to check on you and make sure-” his rushed words are cut short by a sudden struggle between Mando and Silas.

In the midst of Jax’s accidental distraction, Silas had reached behind his back and pulled out a small blaster from his waistband, jamming the sharp hilt into Mando’s abdomen. No longer protected by his beskar plate, Mando doubles over from the blow, loosening his grip on Silas enough for him to aim his blaster in my direction. As he pulls the trigger, Mando manages to quickly shift his body in front of me, blocking the trajectory of the bullet with his helmet. There is a sharp _ding_ as the beam bounces off the steel and careens past our heads. I hear another thud as the laser makes contact with an unfamiliar surface.

A ragged gasp sputters from Jax’s mouth, and I struggle to take in the sight of fresh blood spilling out from his chest.

For a moment, I am unable to react, standing in silent horror as my mind tries to comprehend what’s happening. In a daze, I faintly hear Mando strip the blaster away from Silas and crack him over the head with the butt of the gun, knocking him out cold onto the ground. My body instinctively moves towards Jax before my mind can catch up, and I fall onto my knees, catching his upper body before he slams into the floor. I tug in vain at the buttons of his shirt, trying to blink away fresh tears welling up behind my eyes. In a frustrated panic, I begin ripping up the fabric in order to get to the wound. Once the gun shot is exposed, I see it has slightly cauterized from the heat of the blast, but continues to bleed profusely. I pick up the cloth and try to cover the wound with the tattered pieces, but it does not fully stop the sticky redness from pooling out. I scramble through ragged gasps of air as I try to hold in sobs, leaning Jax on the floor and pushing hard on the wound. His eyes are glazed over with shock, his body trembling with pain as he reaches to grab my bloody hands with his own. His hands are ice on my skin, and I shudder at the cold touch. I watch helplessly as Jax withers further and further into unconsciousness, barely noticing the sudden absence of the Mandalorian and his bounty. I shift my head up, and through my blurry eyes, I see the armor once left on the ground next to me is no longer there. A cry chokes up through my throat with the realization that Mando has left with his bounty, and I am alone. I can no longer keep the sobs in as I feel my friend dying beneath me. As I feel his trembling body go limp, unmoving and silent under my hands, I lay my forehead gently on his chest and cry out.

“I’m sorry, I-I-I’m so sorry”, I repeat to him, hoping against hope that he can still hear me, even though I know he’s gone. For what seems like hours, I cradle his lifeless body on the cold ground, slowly rocking my hips back and forth as I sob into his chest, my face and hands caked with dried blood.

“I’m sorry.”


	4. The Crest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is BY FAR my favorite one I have written. It's a bit longer than the others, because I just couldn't stop writing about the two of them! The interactions they share in this one are EPIC. I hope you guys enjoy reading this one, just as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Jess <3

“Sky...Sky, you need to get up…Sky!”

It feels like I am hearing the voice in a dream. I recognize the filtered tone of it, yet the word being repeated seems odd and unfamiliar, as it comes from the distant source.

My eyes flutter open, and I lift my head in confusion. I blink up towards the harsh light, wiping a hand over my eyes in an attempt to clear the tears blocking my sight. A shadow passes through the light and hovers over me. My eyes strain to adjust themselves, as I look up into the Mandalorian’s helmet.

“Sky, we need to get out of here now”, he repeats the at-first unfamiliar word back to me again. Through my hazy brain, I figure out that he’s been saying my name over and over, in an attempt to get my attention. He has never called me by my name before.

The Mandalorian leans down on his knees and places a gloved hand on my upper back. I look into his helmet and try to form words.

“That’s…that’s my name, you’re saying my name”, I slur out to him, my head rolling up and down as if my neck can no longer bear its weight. He brings up his other arm to steady me as I sit, still holding onto Jax in my lap. I notice his gauntlets and gloves are back on, as he moves to pry my hands off the dead body.

“No, no, we can’t leave him like this,” I choke out, attempting to hang on to the lifeless corpse. The Mandalorian easily peels me away from him, and Jax’s upper half slides off my legs and onto the tile. Emotion fills me once again, and I cry out, grabbing fistfuls of Mando’s shirt and pulling myself into his chest. As my head sinks down, I find that my cheek is resting comfortably on his collarbone; he is still not wearing his beskar chest piece. I also notice that his clothing is faintly wet, and I guess that rain has begun to fall outside. He lets me sit there for a moment, gently resting his hands on my back in a half-cradle. I suck in a few deep breaths as I attempt to regain myself, trying to match the pace of my breathing against his own. He nudges me off of him and meets my eyes with his helmet.

“Sky, I am sorry about your friend, but we need to go before someone finds us”, he says to me in earnest.

“Jax…his name is Jax”, I state matter-of-factly to him, almost in a trance.

“I need your help getting Jax out of here, and I will take care of him, okay?” He tilts his helmet at me and waits for a response.

“Wh-wh-what will you do with him?” I breathe out the question quickly, not knowing if I want the answer.

“I will take care of it, no one will find out what’s happened here tonight”, he says assuredly, speaking as he pulls us both up to our feet. “I need your help with the door, we have to get him out of here and head to my ship. It’s just on the outskirts of town, not far.”

I let the words pass through my ear, and try to understand what he’s saying to me. As I stand there silently, he takes that time to reach down to Jax, grabbing his body and heaving him up over his shoulder with a grunt. He turns to face me, and I take that as a sign he’s ready to go. We make our way to the door, I punch in the code and push through, making sure to hold it for him as I step into the falling rain.

The downpour is a welcoming feeling against my skin, and as I walk next to the Mandalorian through the puddles in the empty alleyway, I watch the caked blood trickle off my flesh and disappear onto the cement. My feet feel like they are dragging behind the rest of my body, the weight of my emotions heavy on my shoulders. I hear Mando faintly huffing through his modulator as he carries the dead weight. I cannot comprehend how he is managing so well with his armor, the body, and his soaked clothing, but he continues to walk on ahead of me.

He rounds a corner and I run into his back, not aware that he has stopped in front of a large door. He reaches with his free hand to swipe his parking card, and the door lifts upwards, revealing a garage with a ship parked in the center. My eyes light up momentarily at the sight.

“A Razor Crest”, I whisper in astonishment, feeling a small smile creep onto my lip. “I haven’t seen one of these in…years.” I walk towards the right wing of the ship, dragging my hand along the metal shell. “This is so cool”, I muse, and for a moment, I feel like a kid again. My mind is drawn back to my mother taking me through the air field on Coruscant, me pointing out my favorite ships to her, calling them all by their exact name. My tiny legs barely hung off the seat of her ship, but she always made sure to make me feel like the most feared pilot in the galaxy.

“ _My dear, never stop looking up!_ ” she would say to me, setting her too-large helmet over my small head.

I let myself remain in the memory, desperately wanting it to replace the grief tugging at my thoughts.

A loud hissing noise comes from behind me, making me step back in surprise. The platform of the ship opens and clanks down on the sandy floor. I see Mando releasing the button as he turns toward me.

“Listen, I’m going to go take care of the body. Go inside the ship and clean yourself up.”

A tinge of pain passes through me when he refers to Jax in that way. I sigh heavily and look down, unable to hold his gaze any longer. I look at myself, now shivering from the rain-soaked clothes, and notice how badly I am matted down with blood, sweat, and dirt.

 _I am a complete fucking mess_ , I think to myself, lifting my head back up at Mando.

“Get yourself in the shower, warm up, I’ll be back soon” he continues, “Silas is knocked out cold, I bound and gagged him in up in the cockpit.”

I nod slowly at him, and he swiftly exits the garage door, closing it up behind him. I face the Crest once more, and stomp my wet boots up the platform into the ship.

My eyes find the shower door, and I immediately begin peeling off wet clothes as I make my way in. At this point, I am convulsing in shivers, the coldness seeming to hit me all at once. I don’t like the idea of Silas being in the cockpit, unconscious or not, but in this moment, I forget to care much about it. I kick the boots off and leave them at the entrance of the ship. My shirt falls into a sloppy mess on the grated floor. I hit the button to open the door, ripping off the holster and blaster still attached to my thigh, setting them on a shelf next to me. Next, I wriggle my way out of the wet leather pants, leaving them just outside. I enter the room and rush to turn the shower head on, slipping out of my underwear and throwing them near the sink. I turn the nozzle and the hot water blasts me straight on. I scramble to turn the heat down, my freezing skin needing time to adjust to the warmer temperature.

A sigh rolls out of my throat as my body goes limp under the water. The pressure from the spout feels soothing on my skin, hugging me in a warm embrace. My shivering does not cease, however, and I start to think the shudders are no longer form the cold. My body is fighting relaxation, wanting to remain tense with the anxiety and pain that have filled me throughout the night. I force myself to release the emotional weight, falling to my knees as I begin sobbing once again. I twist myself until I am sitting in the middle of the floor, water falling onto my shoulders as I bring my knees up to my chin. The sobs convulsing from my body only come on stronger with the passing minutes. The room fills up with steam, and I lose track of time and space, falling into my own personal oblivion as the hot water licks at my back.

The shower door opens and closes so quickly that I take no notice of it. I suddenly feel pressure on my upper back, a solid touch that is not water. Instinctually, I reach back with a hand and grip tightly around the wrist of my attacker. I swing my body around and launch a knee directly into his side, doubling him over as I leap to my feet, bringing my leg back to wind up for another kick. I try to aim for the groin, but my vision remains blurred from the rolling steam that has completely filled the room. My leg is blocked by an arm, and a strong hand grabs my ankle and shoves it down to the floor. I wind it up again as my assailant backs away, and I see arms reached out as if yielding. I catch a glint of silver hanging in the air, and my eyes adjust to the blurry shape of Mando’s beskar helm.

“Sky it’s _me!_ It’s me”, I hear him pant out, keeping his arms outstretched towards me. I focus on his hazy form in the steam, and I see no other armor on his body besides his helmet. He is covered in a dark long-sleeved shirt and pants, and I can faintly make out the warm skin color of his exposed hands and neck.

A misplaced rage fills me momentarily, and I lash out towards his blurry shape, surprising him with a solid kick directly to the chest. He falls back and slams against the tile wall, his helmet clanking against the hard surface as his head snaps backward.

“You…you left me!” I scream at him, anger taking place of the grief I once felt. “You left me alone to watch him die!”

He shakes off the surprise attack, but I am already lunging at him again. I throw an uppercut with my right arm that he blocks, but I hook him with my left, my fist connecting with the flesh directly under his helmet. He leans back before I can land another jab to his shoulder, and catches my arm just before it hits the wall behind him.

My frantic punches turn into flailing as I realize he’s not fighting back. I pound my fists over and over against his chest as he puts his arms down, allowing me to continue assaulting him. I feel myself draining, my body unable to keep up with the rage inside of me. I beat my fists one more time against his solid pecs, leaving them there as I fall forward into him. He catches me in his arms and holds me steady, as I let out the last of the sobs stored in my body.

“He, he- he died right in my arms, and I-I could-couldn’t do _anything_ to save him”, I sputter out, feeling my body go completely limp in the comfort of his embrace. “You, you should’ve let the blaster hit _me_.”

He senses my legs giving out, and pulls me closer to him while sliding his back down the wall, until he is sitting with me in his lap. He holds me there while a few last sniffles escape my throat. I am lulled into silence by the sudden closeness between the two of us, and I nuzzle myself into the crook of his neck. I barely notice the fact that I am still completely naked, my body rubbing against his soaked clothing.

We sit, the only remaining noise coming from the last of the hot water dripping from the empty tank. His silence eases me for some reason, it’s like he’s showing me he’s completely unbothered by my horrible outburst, or the fact that his clothes are uncomfortably wet, or the way my naked body is pressed up against him. He breaks the quiet calm to apologize.

“I’m sorry I left you like that. I couldn’t handle both Silas and your friend at once.”

“I know”, I whisper to him, my voice cracking, as shame fills me. He shouldn’t have to explain himself to me. I know he didn’t leave me on purpose. I know.

I let out a sigh into his neck, huddling closer to his soaked body. He lets me stay like this for as long as I need, regaining my sense slowly.

I focus on how he feels without the beskar steel covering him up. Even with the bulkiness of the armor stripped away, he still appears compact and well-muscled, but not in a hulking way. He is slimmer than I had imagined him to be, for sure, but I can feel the strength in his arms, as they remain wrapped around my sides. And there is something else about him without the armor, something that makes him seem more…human. Maybe even more…vulnerable. His hard outer shell has been peeled away for the time being, and I see a living, breathing person underneath it all. He isn’t a machine, he wasn’t constructed on Mandalore, he wasn’t born with beskar attached to his limbs. I have been given a momentary glimpse of him as a man, a flesh-and-blood human being, and I try to capture the raw image of him like this in my mind.

The steam has all but dissipated, and I am able to see him more clearly through my misty eyes. He has not fastened the button on the top of his shirt, and I focus on his exposed neck. His caramel-colored skin glistens, wet with small water droplets, and I notice a few beauty marks littering their way up his collarbone, and disappearing from view on his back.

I lift my hand up and press my fingers lightly against his skin, tracing up the trail of brown dots until I reach the bottom of his helmet, caressing him gently just below his ear. I feel his body shudder under me at the touch, yet he tilts his head further away from my face. The movement exposes the back of his neck, and I catch sight of something popping out from under the shadow of his helmet. I reach carefully to grab at it, and when I pull my hand back, a wet ringlet of dark brown curls wraps itself around my finger. I let out a hushed gasp at the sight and feel of his hair, spilling out words from my mouth without thinking.

“You are…beautiful”, is all I can manage to say.

I let go of his curls as he finally turns his helmet to face me. A flash of heat rises through my body as I realize once again that I am still naked, his gaze reminding me of that fact. A feeling of conflict runs through me; I am instinctively embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable position, yet, the desire for him to see me this way remains. I wonder if he feels the same.

I snap out of my thoughts as he shifts his helmet away from me, only this time, he lifts me off the ground and places me back on my feet.

“You should go and rest for a while, I need to clean up”, he says to me, remaining at a distance, his helmet still turned away. “There’s a towel under the sink there”, he points toward it, as his helmet stays fixed on the wall next to him. I finally realize what he’s doing, and I want to thank him for being a gentleman while I’m exposed in the open like this, but he continues. “The den is just outside the door to the left. I will wake you at dawn, you can speak to Silas before I leave.”

I had all but forgotten about my own responsibilities amidst the chaos of the past couple nights. I also realized my data reports to the Republic operator were going to be late.

_Ugh._

The remembrance of it makes my eyes heavy, and I welcome the thought of sleep over having to use my brain any longer tonight. I nod at him and grab a towel from under the sink, wrapping myself up in the rough cotton. He turns toward me when I am fully covered.

“Are-are you hurt?” I ask him, hoping that his injury from Silas’s blaster isn’t bad, and also hoping I didn’t make it worse with my own outburst.

“I’m fine’, he says to me non-chalantly.

“I-I’m really sorry about that”, I apologize, hanging my head down in embarrassment.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine. Get some sleep.”

I lift my head back up, and he offers me an understanding nod. I feign a tired smile back at him, grogginess hitting me with every passing moment. I shuffle my way out of the bathroom and to the small den. I collapse hard on the mattress, barely remembering closing the door behind me, as I drift off into a sound sleep.

\----------------------------------------------------

My body jolts awake as my eyes flash open, a small panic filling me as I push myself up onto my elbows, taking in the sight of the unfamiliar room. I calm back down once I realize where I am, remembering the events of last night, and my exhausted collapse onto the Mandalorian’s bed in the Razor Crest. I rub my eyes open with my hands, and notice a soft sheet laid on top of me. On the edge of the mattress, my top, leather pants, and underwear are in a neat pile, seemingly cleaned and dried.

 _I don’t remember him coming in here_ , I say to myself, knowing full-well I was completely out of it last night. A bantha could’ve charged into this place and crashed through the metal door, and I wouldn’t have even noticed.

I pull the sheets off my naked body, reaching for my clean clothes at the end of the bed. I wince slightly, feeling the soreness in my limbs from the physical mess I had put myself through the night before. I stand up and stretch myself out, a few joints popping satisfyingly in response, and I shimmy on my clothing. I make sure to fold up the towel and sheets before hitting the button to exit the small room.

As I walk out to the hull of the ship, I look down and notice the Mandalorian’s helmet bobbing up and down near my knee. He’s been sleeping just outside the door to his own room, back resting against the metal siding of the entrance. The clothes he’s wearing are clean and dry, still not covered up by his armor.

I wonder whether I should wake him or not. I want to tell him he can go rest in his own bed, positive that the place he’s sleeping is the least comfortable he could’ve chosen. But he seems at peace, comfortable in his own way, as his chest rises and falls softly. My eyes are drawn down towards his left side, and I catch sight of a small pool of blood settling on top of his clean shirt.

 _Shit_.

I lean down quietly and lift up his shirt, exposing a patched-up gash just below his ribcage. The bandage has bled through and has begun dripping down his side.

 _He told me it wasn’t bad_ , I remember the assurance he gave me last night, how he had said that he was fine.

 _Yeah, looks just fine to me_ , I think in annoyance, wishing he would’ve just said something so I could’ve properly helped him.

I rummage through some of the drawers in an attempt to find a first aid kit. I find one, take it out, and flit over to his side. I know he is going to wake up once I start messing with the wound, so I resolve to wake him before I surprise him, and potentially get myself hurt. I shake him gently on the shoulder.

“Hey, Mando”, I whisper to him. “Hey, I need to change your bandage.”

His helmet jolts up and a sigh escapes his modulator. He reaches down toward his wound, and I can feel him wince. I catch his hands before he can touch it.

“It’s okay, I can do this real quick.” I put his hands down by his sides, and take out a cloth to wipe the blood away. He shudders softly as I go over the wound. I quickly apply a spray of bacta over it and cover it with a clean bandage. I push down to secure it, and he grabs my wrist in response, sighing once more.

“You told me this wasn’t bad”, I remark to him, looking at his visor through furrowed brows.

“It’s not. I’ve had much worse”, he says back to me, turning his helmet downwards as if furrowing his own. I roll my eyes and continue securing the bandage to his side, ensuring it will not leak out. His visor continues to face me, and I look at him again, wondering if he has more to say.

“What is it?” I ask him, intrigued by his silent stare.

“I…I am not from Mandalore”, he says to me, and I tilt my head at him in confusion.

“What?”

“Last night, when you were lying to Silas, you said I came directly from Mandalore."

I take my mind back to the show we put on last night for Silas, shuddering slightly at the vision of it.

“Yes, I told him that because you’re a Mandalorian.”

“I am a Mandalorian, but, I was not born on Mandalore. I was…a foundling”, he continues on.

I stare into his visor, trying to figure out why he’s telling me this at all.

“My family died when I was young, the Mandalorians rescued me and took me in. I was raised in the fighting core.”

“I am…so sorry, that sounds…awful”, my heart aches to think of him as a child, pulled away from his own world, and brought into a life of hardship.

“I was grateful they took me in. The Mandalorians have been good to me. I am proud to follow their creed.”

“But, but you were just a child. You were forced to live a life of secrecy and violence. Your identity was completely stripped from you.”

“Singularity is weakness. Mandalorians are stronger together. Always have been.”

“But there’s so few of you left now. Your whole existence has been shattered by the Galactic Wars. And you still decide to choose this life, a life in the shadows, filled with loneliness and brutality…”, my words trail off as I continue looking into his visor. A deafening silence fills the room for a moment, and I watch him shift his head up high before he speaks.

“This is the way.”

The resolute words ring through my ears. They are vague and hold no meaning in my mind, yet I can feel the importance of them as they resonate through the small space between us. His visor holds my eyes for a moment longer, and my skin tingles from the thick tension given off from the powerful phrase.

I look down at the wound, breaking his hold over my gaze, and gently pat around the bandage. I smile at the sight of his delicate and fleshy skin around his ribs.

 _Mandalorian, but human,_ I remind myself, pulling his shirt down and offering him a pat on the shoulder, indicating I’m finished up. His bare hand catches my arm, and he slides it down my wrist until he is grasping my hand with his own. I visibly tremble at the skin-to-skin contact, one not hindered by the presence of leather gloves, and I am amazed at how soft his touch feels on me. I collect myself and look up into his helmet once again.

“Thank you for helping me, Sky”, he says, his voice echoing my name in my ear.

“Of course, Mando”, I say back, squeezing his hand gently.

Just then, we both hear clamoring in the cockpit above. He lets go suddenly, and makes a move to stand up. I move with him until we are both on our feet, facing each other.

“Looks like our bounty is finally awake.”

He walks over to the pile of beskar he placed on the shelf, and begins to put his armor back on. As he clicks his gauntlets on, I grab his chest piece and push it inwards, giving it a knock with my fist as it settles into place.

“Let’s go see what he has to say.” I nod at him and follow him up the ladder to face Silas.

We find him squirming around on the grated floor, hands tied behind his back. He has just managed to get the gag out of his mouth.

“Untie me _now_ ”, he spits up at us. The Mandalorian doesn’t hesitate to pull Silas up from his collar, slamming him against the door of the cockpit. He unbinds Silas’s hands from the ropes, and Silas grabs at his sore wrists.

“Listen to _me_ , this girl has to ask you a few questions before I take you back to the guild. If you answer her truthfully, _maybe_ , just maybe, I won’t put you in carbonite”, the Mandalorian’s strong voice resonates throughout the walls. Silas cowers down at the force of Mando’s words, raising his hands up in submission.

“ _Fine,_ fine! Let the bitch ask me her questions then.”

A fire brews inside me at his words, and I backhand him across the face, as Mando pulls him up on his feet.

“Tell me, snake, where can I find Baron Tagge? How can I get to him? I know he takes refuge on this planet”, I try to sound as intimidating as the Mandalorian while I look down at Silas, his brow wet with sweat as he seethes under the strong gloved hand.

“Tell _me_ , girl, has this Mandalorian fucked you yet? It’s not like his kind to stick around for so long. There must be something holding him here, maybe it’s what’s between your legs”, Silas laughs through his teeth, but is cut off as Mando shoves him harder against the cockpit door, tightening his grip around his neck as Silas squacks under the pressure.

I reach out and grab Mando’s arm to try and prevent him from choking Silas to death.

“Mando, please”, I plead with him, but he doesn’t listen, shrugging me off his arm and making me stumble backwards. I step forward and grab at his arm once again, planting my feet firmly as I rip his arm off Silas.

“Mando, stop, I-”, the words catch in my throat as I feel a blazing fire across my stomach. My exchange with Mando enables Silas to pull out a small knife from his pocket. The blade connects with my side and tears through my skin, and I fall onto my knees, letting out a surprised gasp.

Mando shoves Silas to the ground and reties his bounds, leaving him there and reaching for me on the ground.

An intense anger runs through me, realizing that Silas has been able to compromise us twice now. I get up and push Mando out of my way, stumbling forward to Silas. My bloody hand finds his throat, and I spit into his face, and newfound fire lighting up my eyes.

“You tell me where I can find Tagge, and I might let you live, you slimy piece of shit.” I reach for the knife that Silas used to slice me, grabbing it and bringing it up to his throat. He seethes under the pressure of the knife against his temple. He finally spits out his confession.

“F-f-fine! All I know is, Tagge will be here three Saturdays from now, for the m-masquerade party at the casino. He always rents out the master suite for the weekend. Now let m-me go!”

I shove him back into the floor and stand up, holding onto my side, hands wet with my own blood. Mando reaches for me again and steadies me in place with his hands. Silas flashes a crooked smile up at the sight of us.

“She’s got a lot of fire in her Mando, maybe one day she’ll let you snuff it out.”

He begins to cackle just as Mando rushes him, pulling him up by the collar and opening the hull door. He throws Silas down the ladder, and I lose sight of him as he jumps down after him.

I look down in a haze to assess my wound. There’s too much blood for me to know how bad it is, and I backpedal until I manage to clamber onto the pilot seat. I lean back in the chair and try breathing through the pain to collect myself. I hear Silas scream as the carbonite processor turns on, the sound of the cold gas hissing through the ship. Then all goes silent. I close my eyes in relief as Silas is finally dealt with.

When I open them again, my bloody reflection is looking back at me through Mando’s helmet. He has already gathered the first aid kit and is flitting through the supplies, kneeling down in front of me. He takes out a sterile cloth that I reach for, but he stops me, pushing me back down on the seat.

“Just lay back, I’ll take care of this quickly”, his words echo in my ear as déjà vu hits me.

“Looks like you’re the one cleaning me up now Mando, should I tell you the wound isn’t bad?” I try joking with him through my wince as he pushes the cloth down on the gash. His helmet continues moving back and forth like he didn’t hear me.

“How bad is it?” I ask him.

“It’s worse than mine. It may need a stitch or two before I put the bacta on it”, he speaks quickly through his modulator, as he continues wiping blood away from the wound.

“Has anyone told you that you have shitty bedside manner?” I ask him in jest, bracing my back on the chair.

“No.”

For some reason, his response makes my heart hurt. He must’ve helped others before, right? Has he only ever inflicted pain? Been the cause of suffering? I couldn’t believe that. The way he was moving fluidly around, cleaning up my wound, he must have some skill in this. Maybe he just never had anyone talk back to him so much before.

My thoughts are interrupted by his gloved hand coming up to my face. I look at it and eye his helmet in wonder.

“Bite down on this, it’s going to sting a little”, he says to me, offering the side of his glove up to my mouth.

“Liar”, I spit at him sarcastically.

“Fine, it’s going to hurt like hell, now _bite down_ ”, he says gruffly, shoving his pinky and ring finger into my mouth.

I take them in and hold them gently with my teeth, bracing for the stitch.

“Here we go”, he informs me, and shoves the staple gun into my flesh.

“F-UHHHH-CK”, I seethe through the glove, biting down hard on his hand, my back arching up as pain shoots through my side.

“Okay, it’s done, it’s over,” Mando says, as he puts the gun down and quickly applies a layer of bacta to the cut. I release his fingers from my mouth, and let out a ragged sigh at the instant feeling of relief. He applies a clean bandage to the wound and pulls my bloody shirt back over my skin. I look down at him with a smile of thanks, my breathing beginning to return to normal. He matches my gaze and offers my thigh a gentle squeeze.

For a moment, we stay like this, and I feel the tension in the room release as we both experience a feeling of relief. We are in one piece, him with his bounty, and me with my information, and the mission is complete. I lean forward, expecting him to stand up, but he stays on his knees, holding steady to my leg. I look down at him, his helmet now closer to my face.

“Mando?” I ask, making sure he’s okay. I get no vocal response from him, but I feel the pressure of his grip tighten against my thigh, and he places his free hand on my other one. He continues to look up at me without a word. I place both my hands on top of his own, and speak up for the both of us.

“Thank you, for your help, for everything”, I say, hoping my words are sufficient enough to convey my gratitude. He nods and takes his hand off my thigh, moving it behind him so he can reach into one of his pockets. He takes out something and holds it out, the delicate silver glinting up at me.

“Oh, my necklace!” I exclaim with both surprise and delight, not even realizing it had not been on me. I take it out of his hand and put it back around my neck. “I hadn’t even noticed it was gone, thank you so much.”

“I found it in the alley outside last night, I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you sooner. One of the links had broken, and I did my best to put it back together while you were asleep.”

A smile gleams from my face and into his visor, appreciating his surprising thoughtfulness.

“That was so kind of you, I-I can’t thank you enough”, I stammer through the words as best I can.

“There’s no need.”

We both nod in unison, and I hear a small sigh come through his filter. He moves to stand up, offering his hands out for me to do the same.

“I need to get back to the guild, I’ve already been here too long”, he explains to me, dropping my hands to turn around and make his way down the ladder again. I follow him down, and he offers me a glove as I plop into the hull of the ship with him. I grab my boots and shove my feet into them, while Mando rummages around a drawer and pulls out a clean black t-shirt. He walks up and offers it to me.

“You shouldn’t be going out with all that blood on your shirt”, he remarks. My mind focuses on the relieving numbness radiating from my side. The wound is already almost healed up completely. I pull the black shirt over my dirty one, glad that it’s big enough to hide the dried redness covering most of my torso.

“Thanks”, I sigh at him, realizing we are about to finally part ways.

After the events that have transpired over the last couple nights, I am happily relieved for it to be over. Yet, I feel a tugging inside of me that I can’t quite explain. Even though chaos and violence have surrounded both the Mandalorian and me since his arrival, I still can’t help but feel comforted by his presence.

I feel safe, secure, at peace, steady.

I hear the hull door hiss open, and brace my eyes against the harsh sunlight now shining through the ship. Mando steps toward the door and looks back, waiting for me to move onto the platform. I suck in a breath as I try to hold my head high, stepping forward and nodding at him as I breeze outside. The harsh sunlight hits my skin, and my silver chain sparkles up at me. I decide to not look back as I begin walking away.

“Sky”, I hear Mando call out behind me, a slight shiver running down my spine as he uses my name. I turn to face him.

“No matter how much of a wretch Silas is, he was right about one thing”, he explains.

I tilt my head quizzically up at him, waiting for him to continue.

“You do have a fire in you. A fire that burns deep, that can’t be tamed by anyone. Keep that flame burning.”

I nod at him knowingly, in awe of his words, blinking away the tears forming behind my eyes. I can’t bear to say anything back to him.

“You’ve been through a lot the past few days. Yet you managed to pull through. You helped me with my bounty, helped your Republic friends as well, and managed to both kick my ass and save it all in one day.”

A laugh erupts through my throat, and I let the tears fall freely down my cheeks.

“You didn’t have to do any of it, but you put yourself out there, and you got the job done.”

I can sense the gratitude in his last words, as he finally falls silent.

I let the quiet continue, taking in the sight of the Mandalorian for one last time. I give him one more nod and smile, and turn on my heels to walk out the door.

I don’t use the words out loud, knowing they are not mine to say, but I can think of no other phrase that fully conveys my appreciation for everything he’s done for me.

I run the powerful message through my head, hoping that by some force, he is able to hear them echoing in my mind.

_This is the way._


	5. The Casino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting to write this chapter since I began writing this story! I'm glad our girl finally got into the Canto Bight casino. I had a hard time keeping this one short, I wanted to do the casino justice, and add plenty of dialogue between her and Mando. 
> 
> LOVE, Jess

“Ouch!”

“Well stop moving!”

“I haven’t moved _at all_.”

“Okay okay, I’ve got it”, Sashev says through her teeth, fastening the bobby pin into the low bun resting on the back of my head. “You know, this doesn’t look half bad”, she compliments herself on her work, spinning me around in the chair so I can see it from all angles in the mirror.

I look at my reflection as she beams down at my head. She’s right. It looks just as I wanted it to, my blonde locks swept up loosely behind my head, a few small curls falling out and shaping my face.

I give her an appreciative smile and stand up, letting my long dress fall back down to the floor of my apartment. I am grateful she came over to help me get ready for the masquerade party at the casino tonight, although I’m bummed she’s unable to go with me.

“So what’s next girly? Hair is great, makeup looks bomb, and the dress is absolutely stellar. I mean, seriously.”

She was right about that, too. The satin dress I had bought was nearly half of my Republic allowance for the entire _month_ , but damn, I think it may have been worth it. The color, a blood red hue that I don’t find myself wearing much of, is simply stunning. The front of the dress is a plain v-neck, straps nearly hanging off my shoulders in a pretty silhouette. A high slit runs up the left side of my leg, complimenting nicely with the simplicity of the neckline. The entire front of the gown however, is totally overshadowed by the back of the dress, or should I say, lack thereof. The backless design is jaw-dropping, the seams of the fabric not meeting again until just above my tailbone, gathering in a small red train and flowing beautifully down to the floor.

Yeah, it was worth it.

“Um, I think the shoes next, then the mask, then I need to go to the bathroom for some more perfume”, I tell Sashev, and she shimmies over to grab the gold heels from my bed. She puts them on the floor and I maneuver into them with some difficulty. The heels themselves are tall, and the gold details snake around my entire calf and up to my knees. I manage to get them on and look up to see Sashev holding the mask up to my face, ready to secure it to my head. The mask, like all my other accessories, is also gold, the intricate lace detailing matching well with the plethora of dainty rings and bangles hanging from my arms. She fastens it into my bun and steps back.

“God _damn_ Sky, I really wish I could go with you, just so I could count how many eyes will be on you _all_ night”, she smiles slyly as she smacks me on the ass.

I laugh at her as I spin around once more in the mirror.

“Eyes would be on the _both_ of us, you know that”, I say in response, winking at her playfully.

Unfortunately, the amount of traffic coming to Cantonica for the masquerade party meant that the strip club would no doubt be insanely busy as well. I was already taking the time off to attend, so Sashev was more-or-less covering my shift. Not only was she nice enough to do that, she also didn’t ask me many questions about why exactly I needed to go to this party. I had told her something about having picked up a second job, pay under the table, sort of secret. She was happy enough with that answer to not pry.

_God, my friends are great._

She is not aware that I had sent the information Silas gave me to the Republic base, and they ensured I was able to get tickets to the event promptly. Two tickets, in hopes that I may find someone to go with me as cover, making me less likely to stick out if I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t worried that I didn’t find anyone to go with me, I had mostly wanted to take a friend just for the experience of it all. We talked a lot about the infamous casino, what it would be like to all take a night off and go there, we just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

I look at Sashev, then down at my shoes, a fleeting sadness filling the small gap between us. We both want to say what we’re thinking, it’s just a matter of who says it first. Sashev beats me to it.

“Jax would’ve went with you”, she lets out solemnly.

“I know.”

“He would’ve had fun, too.”

“I know.”

We both look back up and sigh, attempting to shake the sadness away and letting the moment pass by. We had many moments like that over the past three weeks; they would come and go at times, and we would let them. Just like now.

I inhale deeply and let out a huff.

“Okay, well I’m gonna run to the bathroom, meet you downstairs? Khoan knows what time to come get us, right?” I make sure with Sashev.

“Yep, we are good to go, he should be here in like five minutes. We’ll drop you off on our way to the club.”

I nod at her and head to the bathroom, shutting the door and leaning my ear up against it, ensuring she has left my apartment. Once I hear the door click closed, I unlock and rummage through my safe tucked away in the cabinet, pulling out a small utility garter. I fasten it to my exposed thigh and pull it up in order to hide it just below my hip. The fancy Republic gadgets attached around the leather strap do _not_ go well with my outfit, so I ensure it’s safe and secure while moving around in front of the mirror.

I’m ready.

I spritz a few more pumps of perfume on my neck and wrists, breathing in the sweet aroma in order to calm myself.

_You’ve got this, Sky._

I shut off the lights to my apartment, and breeze my way down to the lobby to meet my friends.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The grand entrance to the Canto Bight casino is already buzzing with energy. I open the door of Khoan’s vehicle, and all three of us are hit with the vibes radiating through the plaza outside. The excitement is palpable, even at this distance, and folks are already gathering near the entrance, dressed up in their finest, ready for an entertaining night.

Khoan jumps out and runs to my side of the speeder, opening the door for me and offering a hand. I take it and gather my dress in order to step out.

“We will come back and get you after the club shift is over, is that okay?” he asks me, holding his arm out until I am fully on the ground.

“Yes, that should be completely fine”, I let him know, turning to face both him and Sashev. “Thank you guys.”

“Of course babe, have fun!” Khoan calls out as he jumps back in his speeder, putting his arm around Sashev and winking at me.

I smile back and give them a nod. Khoan punches the gas and they race off, their laughter faintly echoing in the air.

I turn to face the enormous entrance, and clear my throat, preparing to enter, without fully knowing what to expect. My skin hums with both anxiety and curiosity as I make my way into the casino.

As I walk through the door, my body is hit with a multitude of sensations. My eyes first lock onto the grand staircase, sprawled out magnificently in front of me. My ears perk up at the classical music reverberating off the large columns that tower above me, mixing with the dulcet laughter and chattering of party guests as they file in. The scent in the air is a mixture of expensive champagne, cigars, florals and musks, and the combination of it all rests pleasantly around my nose. I take all of this in as I pace toward the ticket agent set up just below the staircase. I take hold of the two tickets and smile up at her face, ready to give her both slips, even though it’s just me.

“Oh sweetie, don’t you just look regal tonight!” she comments to me, sparkling eyes squinting up at me as she smiles.

“Thank you so very much m’am”, I beam at her, handing her the tickets. Strangely, she scans them both and returns the stubs to me.

“You guys are all set”, she says, and I look at her quizzically, faltering in place.

I feel a _whoosh_ sensation come from behind me, and then a glove places itself on the small of my back, guiding me to walk. I almost stumble forward in surprise, but a strong arm catches me by the elbow and holds me steady. I snap my head backward to see the beskar-clad man next to me.

“Mando?” I whisper in wonder at him, as he continues to guide me towards a quiet space at the foot of the stairs. A flood of questions fill my head and begin spilling out of my mouth before I can form them properly. “Mando, what-how…what are you doing here?”

“Hunting”, he replies straightforwardly.

I shake my head at him, still unsure if his words mean anything to me in my shocked state.

“How, how did you know where to find me? How did you know I had another ticket?”

“I didn’t, just got lucky.”

I continue to stare blankly at his helmet, and for once, he fills the silence between us.

“I would’ve gotten in eventually, this just worked out easier. I got here and saw you walking in, figured I’d give it a shot. This event has brought in a lot of bounties from all over the galaxy. Figured I should come back, scout some of them out, see what comes of it.”

He’s talking so…casual about it. The tone in his voice is normal, but some of the words just seem…lazier. Like, he isn’t all business at the moment. He doesn’t have a set plan for his night. He’s just… here to see what happens. It makes me feel odd, and I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing yet.

I lift my hand up and slowly point to my mask.

“How could you be sure it was me? My face is half covered.”

“I don’t need to look at your face to recognize you.”

A blazing hot spark runs up my stomach and plants itself on my cheeks. I am happy to have something on that hides my blush.

_So he recognizes what, exactly? My exposed skin? My bare back? The nape of my neck? That’s how he knows? That’s…uncanny. And also embarrassing._

I don’t think I could be more befuddled right now, and for a second time, I struggle with what to say.

“So, um, so are you-are you like, joining me for the night, then?” I stammer through the question as best I can.

“If you’ll have me.”

_If I’ll have him?_

Now I think he’s just doing this on purpose. Seeing if he can get a rise out of me.

I bite down on my lip to control my expression as I gaze intently into his helmet. He looks right back at me, the reflection of my red dress looking like fire dancing in his visor.

So many thoughts are rushing through my mind all at once. The Mandalorian and I had shared a very profound goodbye (at least it was for me) about three weeks ago, and I hadn’t really expected to ever see him again. I had hoped, or at least wondered, if we might encounter each other once more. I guess that us reuniting in this place, at this event, seemed to make some sense.

As I continue looking at him, I suddenly feel the strange tugging inside of me that I had felt when I last saw him about a month ago, as I was walking away from his ship, and back to my own life. A feeling that I wasn’t quite ready to leave, even though our mission was over. The renewed sensation fills me once again.

“Of course I’ll have you.”

He proceeds to lift up his arm and offer his elbow to me. I grab onto it, wrapping my forearm around his vambrace, my rings and bangles clinking softly on the metal, and we begin walking up the grand staircase together. I gather myself again before I decide to speak.

“You know, I have a mission of my own to complete tonight. I have to get chummy with the Baron, see if he can offer me any useful information.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think he’ll take kindly to you on my arm, so maybe…that would be a good place for us to part ways?” I ask him, hoping he doesn’t take it as any kind of insult. I appreciate his presence, but I figure he isn’t exactly as _nice_ in his persuasion techniques as I am.

“I agree.”

“Well, it’s early, and I don’t think we’ll be seeing him for a while. So, I plan on enjoying myself for the time being.”

“Enjoying yourself?” He turns his helmet down at me, as we walk up the last few steps and onto the main floor of the casino.

“Yeah Mando, after all, it’s a par-” The last word hitches in my throat, my eyes taking in the spectacular sight of the casino floor.

“Party!” I eek out excitedly, unhooking my arm from his and bringing it up to my open mouth.

The large room is a sight to behold. Almost every surface, from the floors, to the columns, all the way up to the towering ceilings, is covered in beautiful white marble. Gold etching traces around the high points and corners of the white canvas. Black velvet curtains hang from balconies, and black felt covers the gambling tables littered around the large room. The colors are breathtakingly complimentary to each other, offering a pristine-looking contrast of light and dark. My eyes sparkle as I take in the sight, and I can feel Mando’s helmet on me.

“Have you ever seen a place like this before?” I ask him, almost indirectly, continuing to swivel my head around in wonder. I don’t even notice that he doesn’t answer.

From what I can tell, there are about six, maybe seven levels to the casino, each broken up by a grand staircase that snakes its way up to the top. Each level consists of a variety of entertainment: restaurants, bars, gambling rooms, shops, dance floors, and private viewing terraces that overlook the race tracks just outside. The entirety of the building is covered by a large cathedral ceiling flecked with gold, and I squint in awe as my head tilts all the way up. Mando finally breaks my trance when he speaks.

“I want to walk around, survey the room.” I snap my head back down at him and mull over his words.

“Okay, I’d like to walk around too. No gambling for me, I’m afraid I’m no good. I just want to watch.” I start to walk when I hear a small click in his helmet.

“What was that?”

“Biometric scanner.” He taps his finger on the side of his helmet, indicating he’s switched the viewing lens in his visor. “Just want to get a read on any bounties nearby.”

“Cool”, I say to him briskly, making my way through the crowd, deciding my destination will be the gigantic bar on the other side of the room. I feel him follow behind me.

I watch intently as the gamblers on the floor place bets, roll dice, holler and curse their way through whichever games they’re playing. Champagne flows nonstop from the hands of waiters, who seem just as happy to be here as anyone else. Whether they’re winning or losing, everyone appears to be having a great time.

I notice quite a few glances and stares from people as I pass by, and when I make it to the bar, I turn around to the Mandalorian.

“Jeeze, Mando, does that beskar draw a crowd everywhere you go?”

He taps his helmet to turn off his scanner, and looks down at me.

“Half these people could afford an entire warehouse of beskar camtonos. _This_ …” he flicks his chest piece with his glove, making a muffled _ding_ sound on contact, “…this means nothing to them.”

I look down at his chest and back up to his visor.

“They aren’t looking at me”, he comments.

_Hmm, maybe Sashev was right. Maybe people really are looking at me._

I try deciding if I want to push the topic with him further. Just then, the droid bartender comes over and asks if I would like some champagne, offering an overflowing flute of gold liquid to me. I look up to the robot behind the bar and smile, grasping the glass and trying not to spill. My decision is made now.

“What are they looking at, then?” I inquire, taking a sip from my glass and looking up at him through my mask.

I swear I hear a small _hmph_ come through his filter, and he shakes his head slightly.

“I think you know”, he says, almost in annoyance. He must realize I’m playing with him.

“Tell me”, I parry back to him.

“People know a beautiful woman when they see one”, he says, almost too matter-of-factly. It doesn’t matter, my stomach still flutters at the words.

“You think I’m beautiful?” I look intensely into his visor as I ask the question. I wish he would just be direct about it. I mean, I called him beautiful outright, when we were on his ship, my fingers running through his wet hair while I sat in his arms. I didn't intend on saying it, but I still meant it at the time. And my _God,_ it had all been in response to me seeing a simple strand of curls, a small patch of his brown skin. Even if he doesn't believe it, I feel like he could say it out of plain courtesy at this point. I had put actual effort into my look tonight. 

My wish doesn’t come true. Instead, he lets out a sigh, and I continue to wonder if he’s going to say anything, or remain silent like he usually does. I look down at the bubbling gold in my hand.

_Maybe I’ll get my answer at the bottom of this glass._

I lift the drink up to my lips and whip my head all the way back, chugging down the liquid in two large gulps. I let out a breath when I’m done and wipe my hand over my mouth.

_Hmm, nothing._

I turn around to set the glass down on the bar while reaching for another full one. Mando steps forward towards me and lowers his helmet to my ear.

“Don’t you think you should slow down?” he scolds, and I scrunch my nose up in annoyance at his chastising tone.

“Are you my babysitter?” I quip back.

“Do you need one?”

Heat blazes up behind my eyes as my temper quickly rises. I want to know where in his stupid metal shell he hides all this _audacity._

“No”, is all I manage to grit out through my pursed lips. I spin on my heel and begin walking away from him. He doesn’t follow.

I look up and see a nice looking man in a suit meeting my gaze. He offers a brilliantly white smile to me, holding his champagne up with his hand. I hold mine up and out toward him in a toast, and we share a small chuckle. The gesture makes me feel bold, and I upend the glass, finishing it in a few swigs. As my head comes back down, my view is obstructed by the Mandalorian’s brooding shoulders in front of me. I try to look around him, but he’s too broad, and I lose sight of the handsome stranger. I roll my eyes and look up into his helmet with contempt.

“Are you my boyfriend now, too?”

“Are you done being a brat?”

I make a move to pass him, but he steps in front of me, and I stub my open toe on his hard boot.

“Ouch! What the _hell_ , Mando?", I flash my eyes at him in a silent rage, my lips coming together to spit more angry words at him.

They don’t get the chance to leave my mouth, interrupted by his gloved fingers coming up and hooking under my chin. It’s not a painful hold, but it isn’t gentle either, and I’m unable to move my head. He tilts my face up to him and holds it there, forcing me to meet his gaze. The anger washes away, replaced by a different kind of heat, one that descends from his touch through the rest of my body. I feel like I’m melting into the pressure of his hand, eyes remaining locked on his visor as he speaks.

“Enough.”

I push my chin down, trying to nod. His tone is forceful, but not harsh. Intimidating, but holds a tinge of softness around the edges. He lets go of my face, and his helmet shakes back and forth.

“Don’t shake your head at me like that”, I tell him.

“Like what?” he sounds genuine in his question.

“That way you do. Like you’re aggravated with me, and want to make sure I know it.”

“Don’t I always shake my head at you like that?” he continues to sound interested in my answers.

“No, you don’t. You have different head shakes for different occasions.”

He stares down at me and tilts his head slightly. I continue on, noticing that he’s waiting for me to speak again.

“I can…read some of your reactions to things. At least, I try to read them. The way you shake your head, how you shift from side to side on your hips, the inflection in your tone when you speak. All of it is telling, it’s stuff that helps me get a grip on you. Helps me understand how you might be…feeling.”

“Feeling?” he asks, sounding utterly stumped at my explanation.

“Yeah, feeling. I mean, your entire face is completely hidden at all times. Do you know how hard it is to read people’s emotions when you can’t see their face? Their eyes? I mean, there’s an entire wall made of beskar between you and how you actually feel about things.”

A soft _hmm_ comes from his modulator. He seems to actually be trying to understand and take in everything I’m saying. It makes me feel… a little proud, to hold his attention this long.

“So, I don’t have much to go on when it comes to you. I’m forced to read your body language, the tone in your voice, the way you occupy the space you’re in. It can be…frustratingly difficult. It’s also kind of, well, sort of…scary. You…scare me sometimes”, I confess to him, finally taking a deep breath after my small speech.

“I scare you?” is all he manages to ask.

“Well, sort of. For one, you’re _obviously_ physically intimidating. I mean, your entire body is covered in the hardest known metal in the galaxy. You have weapons strapped to every part of you, ready to kill at any moment. The way you carry yourself, y-your broad shoulders and wide chest, the swagger in your step. You’re, you’re also pretty tall…”

I trail off as I begin to find myself getting closer and closer to him, and I almost feel like my words are pulling me towards him unwillingly. I am so close to him now, I almost have to bend my neck fully upwards in order to meet his helmet. He towers over me silently, still listening. I gulp before I continue.

“I-I am used to your physicality by now. It doesn’t intimidate me much anymore. But then again, I don’t have a bounty on my head. I respect the way you present yourself, but it doesn’t necessarily scare me. Especially because I’ve glimpsed, well, a softer side of you, at least briefly.”

We continue to hold each other’s gaze as I ramble on.

“It’s the parts of you I can’t see that frighten me the most. What you may be thinking about certain things, what you may be saying out loud but not really meaning behind your eyes. I can’t discern your reactions to the things I say and do. You are…unpredictable at times…”

I sigh again, as I realize I’m still jabbering away, my thoughts and sentences mingling together in one big word vomit.

“…and that’s my speech for tonight! Thank you for attending, tips are greatly appreciated.” I take a curt bow and lift myself back up in jest, trying to make fun of myself to hide the embarrassment on my face.

He doesn’t respond to my antics, but continues to look down at me.

“I don’t mean to frighten you”, he says through his filter, in a softer tone than I’m used to.

Without warning, the ground begins shaking steadily underneath us, until a nearly deafening roar of thunder travels through the floor, jarring me enough that I reach out to his arm to brace myself. Every object not attached to the ground shifts slightly, and a momentary hush fills the casino. The shockwave subsides, and everyone quickly picks back up where they left off. The races must have begun outside. I let go of his arm and blink up at him.

“You don’t, Mando, you don’t”, I assure him, grabbing him by his gauntlet and snaking my arm under his. “What’s scaring me is how much I’m babbling, when I should be trying to have fun. Let’s go to the other floors, maybe you can scan for some more bounties up there.”

He acquiesces to my suggestion, turning us both to the next set of stairs. I hold his arm gently as we walk, happy our very one-sided conversation has come to an end, and trying to focus back on my surroundings.

He lets me peruse around the first few floors, sauntering my way around the balconies to check things out. I take bites of the hors d'oeuvres being served in each of the common areas, and continue drinking my fill of champagne, although not inhaling it as I was before. Mando walks next to me, not really focusing much on what I’m doing, his helmet sweeping back and forth as he surveys the place.

We eventually find ourselves on the fifth floor, one below the penthouse suites. I feel a steady base vibrate through the floor, and I can hear a faint beat coming down from the stairs. It entices me, and I am drawn closer to its source. I walk towards the entrance of what looks like a club, and I see heads bobbing up and down as people sway to the rhythm. Everything is shining in blacklight, moving reflections of neon popping through clothing and accessories. I step over the threshold of the entrance, body buzzing with a pent up kinetic energy. I don’t really look to see if Mando is following me in, until I feel his presence on my back. I turn around and let him know I’m going into the crowd.

“This looks fun, I want to go dance.”

He stands and looks down at me plainly; I can read no discernable emotion on his mask, as per usual.

“Do you want to join?” I inquire, already knowing the answer.

“What do you think?” he scoffs, but sounding less annoyed than I thought he would.

“Come on, what about fun?” I pout at him.

“What about it?”

“You know what _fun_ is, right? Don’t you ever want to have some?”

“This isn’t my idea of fun”, he replies curtly.

“Well, what is?” I ask, figuring out that I would actually very much like to know the answer.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t give me one, and for some reason, it hurts me more than it probably should. That he offers no response. That he possibly doesn’t care about enjoying himself ever, or even know how.

I offer him a brilliant smile, even though I feel like frowning.

“Well, why don’t you watch me have fun, and see what you think of it”, I offer to him.

His only response is a head tilt, multicolored strobe lights gleaming off his helmet.

I pat his shoulder, and make my way further onto the dance floor.

It doesn’t take me long to start feeling the beat, and I’m already shimmying into a dance as I walk to the middle of the floor. There is a solid crowd surrounding me, but everyone seems to shift to make room for me nonetheless. I start moving my hips back and forth as I succumb to the flow. I lift my arms up as I bend my knees and bring myself closer to the floor, slithering back up and running a hand down my arm.

I glance up to see if the Mandalorian is still standing there, or if he’s decided to bolt out while I’m distracted. I recognize his unmoving shape as I scan the outskirts of the floor. It seems like he’s looking at me, so I smile slyly in his direction.

Other dancers notice me, and before I know it, they are moving over and joining me as I swing back and forth. Eventually, I am rocking back and forth with two other partygoers that seem to be friends. They are both dressed beautifully, and my own dress starts to mesh with theirs as we continue dancing closer and closer together. My movements pick up as I feed off of their intoxicating energy, gyrating my body as I spin around them. It’s not long before a slight sheen of sweat glistens off my skin, and I giggle, realizing how good it actually feels to let go for a little bit.

I glance up and notice neon artwork coating one of my companions. Her exposed skin is a beautiful canvas for the bold colors, and I finally acknowledge that it’s some kind of paint. Since it’s in the forefront of my mind now, I begin noticing others with similar markings. My head shifts around, as if I’ll somehow manage to find the source of the paint. Surprisingly, I do.

There are a few people walking around with small cans of multicolored neon paint strapped to vests they are wearing. They are holding onto slim paintbrushes, offering up their services to those whose skin is still bare. One of them gets nearer and nearer to me, and I stop dancing to meet them on the floor.

“What would you like?” she yells out at me, her voice strained over the loud music.

“Surprise me!” I say back to her, “but if I can request a color, make it red please!”

She smiles and nods at me, and I turn around to present my open back to her. The cool touch of the paint on my skin sends a slight shudder through my body. She glides the brush along my goosebumps, tracing lines up my backbone, around my ribs, up to my shoulder blades. I can’t tell what shapes she is making on her fleshy canvas, but they _feel_ gorgeous.

I look up to see what the Mandalorian is doing in the midst of this. He continues to stand in the same spot, unmoving, his entire metal body a blank expression. I furrow my brows in his direction, wishing he didn’t look so out of place here, and not really sure what to do about it.

The painter twirls to face the front of me, indicating she is finished with her work. I look back at her, then down to the red paint brush in her hand, considering something silly.

“Hey, would you mind covering my hand with that paint?” I reach out my open palm in front of her. She doesn’t even hesitate, quickly covering my hand in a gloopy layer of red. I thank her as she breezes away, her frame disappearing into the crowd.

I turn heel towards Mando, hands behind my back, and skip back over to him. When I’m standing next to him again, I smile up into his visor and tilt my head to the side.

“Well, that was fun”, I say to him, letting out a breathy sigh.

“Looked like it”, he comments plainly.

“Are you ready to have fun, yet?” I ask him coyly, stepping closer to him until his chest piece is nearly rubbing against the front of my dress.

“What do you have in mind?” he questions back, although his tone holds no real curiosity.

I have to strain to look up at him, trying to keep my expression lighthearted. Being this close to him fills me with a sense of…bravery. Like, I have broken through the barrier that his hard outer shell encircles him in. Whether he wanted me to or not, I’ve totally invaded his personal space, a space that is generally a lot larger than most other peoples’. No one dares to even come within feet of him, his demeanor creating an invisible radius of intimidation around him, naturally keeping people at bay. I’ve decided to step right through that line, inviting myself into his bubble without asking. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by it either, and he holds there, right in front of me, looking down through his visor.

His closeness warms me, and I raise up my paint-covered hand from my back, and plant it firmly on the side of his helmet. I half expect him to swat my hand away, but he doesn’t, and I use the opportunity to press my palm into his helm with more force, ensuring the paint will stick to his metal head. The beskar is cool to the touch, like always, and my warm hand meeting with it sends a chill down my arm.  
  
We continue to lock gazes with each other as he lets this happen, making the situation feel more intimate than ever.

Even though his head is completely enclosed in the hard shell, for some reason, it feels like I’m touching his face. It’s not his true face, but it’s the only face I know, the face I’ve grown used to and that I’m comfortable with. It’s hard and cold and unforgiving, but it’s him. It’s still him.

I finally lift my hand off as the upbeat music abruptly cuts out, the quiet melodies of a slow song taking its place. I see couples rush for the dance floor as the rhythm continues.

“Uh, there, now you’re officially a guest at this party. Look, you fit right in”, I announce, smiling up at him through my mask.

“I doubt that”, he says back, the words holding a bit of amusement around the edges. I wonder if he’s smiling.

“I’m serious! It fits you well. Either way, a red hand print indicates a warrior’s mark. That’s why I chose it for you.”

Someone accidentally bumps into me from behind, lurching me forward into Mando’s chest. I raise my hands up to catch myself, trying to prevent any more paint from getting on him. Now, I am closer to him than ever, my hands resting gently against his pecs.

“Er, although, I was pretty interested in seeing that painter cover your beskar in cute neon flowers”, I joke, preening my neck up towards his face.

I see his shoulders shake momentarily in a small chuckle. The sight makes my stomach drop in delight.

“Will you dance with me?” I find myself asking him, nearly choking in surprise at my own boldness.

“Dance?” I already expect him to say no, kicking myself for asking such a ridiculous thing. “I, uh…I’m not very good.”

His words are very much a surprise to me, and my mouth nearly comes open in response.

“Me either”, I chuckle out, as I stand awkwardly right in front of him. He didn’t say no like I was expecting, but he didn’t really say yes either.

_What do I do?_

He decides for me, raising his arm up and extending his hand in invitation. I continue to be blown away by his actions, and I take it quickly, thinking he may change his mind if I hesitate too long.

He pulls me towards the floor and we meet in the center, closely facing each other again. Without missing a beat, he takes my left hand and lifts it gently to rest on his right shoulder. I become completely pliable under his touch, letting him adjust me better so he can slip his right arm onto the small of my back, and place his glove on my open skin. He takes my other hand, red paint now dry to the touch, and holds it to the side and up in the air, the perfect form for slow dancing. I find myself beginning to sway side to side, my body involuntarily relaxed by the perfect position we are in. He starts moving as well, leading me through the motions with his arms and hips, until we are eventually moving back and forth and spinning slowly on the floor.

“You said you didn’t know how to do this”, I remind him, looking up and trying to keep my breathing settled. I expect him to be ungainly and rigid with all the armor on, but somehow his movements seem fluid and soft.

“I said I wasn’t very good”, he responds, “I never said I didn’t know how.”

I feel like making a joke to him, but I don’t get around to it. I am fully enveloped in a circle of comfort, and for just a bit, I forget there are other people around. I can still hear the chatter of party guests, and my ears buzz in response to the continuous melodies of the music, but it all just seems way farther away than it actually is.

The closeness of this moment triggers something inside, and my mind flashes back to when he was holding me, naked, in the shower of the Razor Crest, perfectly patient as I sat in his lap. I can sense the same feeling of patience radiating from him now.

 _Maybe he really isn’t enjoying himself right now, but maybe he is. Even if he isn’t, he’s still here, right? He’s still doing this, for whatever reason_.

I catch him silently looking down at me, and I wonder if I should speak. I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I almost feel like I need to say something in order to get out of my own head.

“I’m sorry if I was being rude earlier”, I apologize to him, not really expecting a response.

“I’m sorry too”, he says back. “I know you are just trying to have fun before your big task of the night.”

His words are not only comforting, but accurate. I was slightly dreading the job looming over my night, and I wanted to squeeze out a little bit of fun beforehand.

“Yeah, I guess I just wanted to prove to myself that I could have a good time, even when working.”

“You left your proof right here.” He tilts his head down and to the side, showing me the neon red handprint on his helmet.

“Ah, yes, that’s your warriors mark, I had no choice but to give that to you”, I say sarcastically, trying to keep the conversation light, as we sway together gently. His solid stare into my face makes that difficult, and my body pushes out words before my mind is ready to speak.

“Do you actually think I’m beautiful?”

“Why do you want me to say it so badly?”

I don’t really have a good answer to that, so I say something that’s off-key, but not necessarily a lie.

“I like your voice. It’s… soothing. You speaking those words would sound…nice, I think.” I almost wish he would kick me for saying whatever fucked up sentence just came from my mouth, but he continues guiding me in a circle.

“You…you can stop dancing with me, if you say it”, I entreaty him, thinking he will immediately jump on the opportunity for this to be over.

He tilts his head a little at me, but remains quiet. I try to move on from the subject, knowing there’s really no reason for it to continue, knowing I’m only pressing the matter because my head is buzzing from champagne and I’m feeling tingly at how close we are.

I feel my expression change unexpectedly, my eyes opening wider in response to his movements. He first takes our intertwined hands and presses them against my chest. I feel myself falling a bit backward, but his arm is behind me, and he uses it to catch me as I get closer to the ground. He cradles me as he dips me fully backward, and I put almost my entire weight into his forearm as he holds me steady. I don’t take my eyes off his helmet as it happens, entranced by the tension his gesture creates. He’s now leaning above me with his chest pressing against my own, and his voice slices warmly through the moment we’re sharing.

“You are beautiful, Sky.”

The words hit me hard, his wonderful baritone voice making my heart slam against my chest. I want to smile, but before I can, I am interrupted by a sudden thunderous applause coming from outside the room.

He snaps us both back to our feet, drawn to the noise, and proceeds to let go of me. I edge my way through the crowd to get closer to the entrance, following the eyes of onlookers as they gaze up towards the penthouse floor. I catch sight of a man standing attentively and waving down with a smile, his face split vertically by a matte black mask.

“That must be the Baron”, I say to Mando, figuring he is behind me. The cheering subsides and people go back to their activities, giving me the opportunity to turn around and face Mando directly.

“Looks like your fun is over”, he jokes with me, I think in an attempt to ease my nerves.

“Or maybe it’s just begun”, I joke back, showing him I’m not afraid.

I hear a huff come through his helmet, and he reaches into his pocket to pull something out. He lifts it up to me and I hold out my hand for it. Once he places it in my palm, I notice that it’s a comms link.

“Take this. If you run into any trouble, you get ahold of me.”

His words make my knees go slightly weak. I know we are about to part ways once again, but he gives me an opportunity to still communicate with him, if I need to. And it doesn’t feel like he’s giving me the comm because he doesn’t believe in my abilities, but more because, he wants to give me a little more assurance. And I hope, secretly, it’s also because he cares about my well-being.

I can only nod at him, unable to find the proper words to thank him. Then I sigh heavily, and turn on my heels to start my ascent to the sixth floor. I feel Mando’s cape swish behind me; he’s turned the opposite way, heading back down to the lower levels, no doubt to survey for bounties again.

As I walk up the stairs, my eyes drift back down over the ledge, and I easily catch sight of his helmet. I hold my gaze on him, watching as his head shifts fluidly back and forth, walking with intent held high on his shoulders. I feel tugging on my insides again, a pressure developing in my tummy and working its way up through my body. I focus on the stark red hand print, my hand print, still splattered onto the side of his helmet, blazing like fire as it catches glints of the overhead lights.

Not wanting to break my gaze, but knowing I need to get to work, I let my mind hold onto one simple word for the rest of the night. One that I had used to describe him, one that is represented by the marking I gave him on his helm, one that symbolizes him in a way that I can only hope to emulate someday.

_Warrior._


	6. The Baron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is like a Part 2 of the casino chapter. I know I keep saying each new chapter is my favorite, but THIS. This is IT right here. 
> 
> Mando being thoughtful.  
> Mando being kind and patient.  
> Mando being FUNNY??  
> Sky being a DRUNK?????
> 
> I AM HERE FOR IT ALL.

“Thank you for your help.”

“Of course! The paint is easy enough to get off, but you can’t get to those hard-to-reach areas yourself!”

I smile at the older woman, who has been nice enough to help me scrub the red markings off my back. Her words give off the impression that she has some experience with these parties.

I have situated myself in one of the larger stalls in the bathroom, attempting to clean up and get my proverbial “shit together”, before seeking out the Baron.

I admire her striking purple hair, as she runs the towel over my shoulder blade, the last of the color being wiped clean.

“All set!” she lets me know, throwing out the red-covered towels, and offering me one more smile through her purple mask before she breezes out of the stall, no doubt to continue enjoying the party.

I don’t know if it’s the champagne, spice, amazing food, or general atmosphere of the casino altogether, but people were being a lot nicer than I had expected.

Everyone just seems to be in a _good_ mood: helpful, pleasant, and happy to lend a hand or shoot a smile your way. Maybe there are a bunch of rich snobs in attendance, wealthy folk who care for nothing more than making money by whatever means possible, but it seems there are enough nice, regular individuals here to balance the scales.

I begin wondering what the Baron may be like, and my focus shifts back to the task at hand.

I steady myself on the wall while I hike up my dress once again, so I can run through the gadgets on my thigh strap one more time, ensuring everything is accounted for and _exactly_ where I want it to be.

The garter didn’t have much to it, but it was enough for me to get by on, usually. Everything was very compact and tiny in size, ensuring both comfort and discreetness. A chip reader to gather intel from computers, a couple tranquilizing pills, a tracking beacon, a lock pick, and a small throwing knife. Nothing super complicated, but small and sophisticated enough to get a simple intel job done.

Hopefully.

A blaster, even a small one like I had stashed away in my apartment, would be a little too noticeable hanging off my hip, especially in a skin-tight dress like this. The Republic counted on me remaining inconspicuous in my tasks, and filling assailaints with blaster shots may seem efficient, but it’s _not_ subtle. My goal was to get in, get out, and not be noticed doing either. 

I hadn’t forgotten about the newest addition to my gadget collection (in case of an emergency, he told me). I pull out the small comms link that had been given to me, turning it over in my hands.

By placing this small radio in my palm, the Mandalorian had granted me the power to communicate with him, even when I wasn’t actually _with_ him. The gesture had brought much comfort to me, and I begin wishing I would’ve said more to him about it.

I should’ve thanked him properly, told him I appreciated that he was thinking of me, even though he didn’t have to.

Explained to him how good he made me feel by dancing with me.

How much my heart swelled when he called me beautiful.

How all of his small gestures were not only noticed, but cherished.

For someone so cold and hard on the outside, his ability to be thoughtful and patient towards me proves that he is capable of deeper emotions- in his own way, of course, because Mando isn’t known for his long speeches, or dramatic expression of feeling.

The outcome remains the same: I am grateful for him, and have been since we met.

Of course, he is almost as stubborn as I am, and there’s no doubt we will continue to butt heads. But, it feels like we are developing a mutual understanding of each other. That even in the times where I’m upset with him, and he’s annoyed with me, we still hold common ground.

The thought crosses my mind that I could tell him all this right now.

Just push the button, tell him the things I should’ve told him already, make sure he knows how I feel. I would probably run my mouth too long, like I always do, but I would still make the message clear.

My thumb hovers over the button as I hesitate.

 _He said only if I needed help, only in an emergency_.

I balk at the idea that it might not be the right move, that he may be angry if I use it for casual purposes, no matter how nice my words would be.

_He’s working too. He’s busy. And that’s not why he gave this thing to me, tha-_

The sudden audible static screeching through the speaker in my hand surprises me. I jolt forward and fumble with the device, until it drops on the ground. Static continues coming through on the other end, and I snatch it up to lower the volume and hold it close to my ear. The sound grumbles nonsensically, until his deep voice cuts through the white noise.

_“Hey, Sky? Can you hear me?”_

This is the last thing I had expected, and I scramble to push down the button to reply to him.

“Y-yeah? Mando? I can- I can hear you.”

_“Good. Did you get yourself into trouble yet?”_

_Is he already checking in on me? Or did he just get bored and figure messing with me was a good way to pass his time? My stars._

_But oh- his voice._

I could listen to him drone on for hours, the low baritone noticeable even through the device, hitting me right in the lower tummy.

“ _Sky, are you there?”_

I snap out of it and respond again.

“Um, y-yes I’m here! And no, Mando, I’m not in any trouble, no thanks to you. What if I was, you know, in the _middle_ of an _interrogation_?”

_“Oh yeah, you’re right, so you’re questioning the quarry in the women’s restroom?”_

Of course, he can hear the muffled bathroom sounds in the distance.

I roll my eyes, and can’t help but smile, knowing full-well he can’t see my expression, but hoping it comes through in my voice. 

“I’m just _saying_ , you could’ve compromised me”, I tell him, heavy sarcasm dripping off my words.

_Stars above, is the Mandalorian actually making jokes right now?_

I let go of the button and sigh, so he can’t hear it. Whether he’s messing with me or not, he’s still checking in, and the thought holds the grin on my face for longer than it probably should.

His voice crackles through the communicator once again.

“ _So, what exactly is your plan for the Baron?”_

Joking aside, he sounds genuinely interested when he asks. I gather myself and step out of the stall, strolling slowly back out to the large balcony on the fifth floor. I hold the comm close to my mouth, quietly letting him in on my thoughts.

 _“_ Well, there’s two different options I’m considering. The easiest thing would be to sneak into his quarters, gather up what I can, and get out without detection. But that seems…ya know…too easy.”

I glance upwards to the highest floor, losing count of how many people are gathered around the penthouse suites.

“There’s too many eyes that could catch me. I’m guessing I’m going to have to go with a more…direct approach. Try to get the Baron to talk with me, maybe even get invited into his suite. If I’m lucky, I won’t even have to get information from him. I’m sure he’s keeping some evidence of his dealings in his room or something, people like him are _always_ working, even when they’re not.”

More crackling through the device.

_“And you think he’s just going to give you the information willingly?”_

I place my hand on the thigh housing my gadgets.

“No, but I have…ways of dealing with that.”

“ _I’m sure.”_ His static voice reeks of sarcasm.

“Are you worried my tricks won’t work on him?”

“ _I’m worried they will.”_

“Wait, are you saying you’re concerned about me, Mando?” I try to hold a playful tone, but his words make my voice shake a bit.

I hear more muffled sounds come from the other end. It sounds like he’s on the move.

_“Hey listen, I gotta go. Bounty.”_

“Oh-yeah, okay, I’ll um…I’ll talk to you later?”

_“Be careful.”_

The other end clicks silent, and I stare down at the device for a moment, letting out a sigh. He has to do his job, and now, I need to do mine.

I store away the comm on my thigh, and briskly make my way to the penthouse floor.

————————————————————————

When I find myself finally on the sixth level of the casino, my first instinct, naturally, is to grab another glass of champagne, and down it without taking a breath.

_Do I have a drinking problem? No, this isn’t a problem. This is helping me. Calming my nerves._

After gulping down the liquid courage, I rake my eyes over the layout of the floor. My gaze is drawn directly to the Baron, who is surrounded by a crowd of people.

He stands out, there is no doubt about it.

He’s an older gentleman, probably nearing 60 or so in human years, but his face still retains a handsome youthfulness. At least, the side of his face I can see.

His features are cut directly in half by a solid black mask, providing a gorgeous contrast with the white suit he is wearing. The crisp, clean lines look polished, refined, and expensive. A cigar hangs casually from the side of his mouth, moving up and down when he talks, and getting pulled out when he laughs.

I feel like I can sense his charm, even from where I’m standing, about 30 feet away. He seems very sure of himself, the faint wrinkles on his face not from age, but from experience and knowledge.

It is…unnerving.

I look away from him, and run my eyes back down over the balcony, to the lower floors. I look for my red hand print on shiny beskar through the throngs of partygoers, remembering now that the Mandalorian probably isn’t even the building anymore. A sigh escapes my lips.

_Okay Sky, get into warrior mode here, let’s just-_

“Are you missing someone?”

I snap out of my silent pep talk, interrupted by a low voice closing in on me. I look up, and am met with the Baron smiling politely at me, half of his shiny white teeth showing around his mask.

“Uh-um, no, no I’m not missing someone”, I stammer the words out, trying to switch gears into conversation mode, caught off guard by his surprising approach. He seems to have left the group he was with, and has come over to me, alone.

“Are you sure? It looks as though you are scanning for someone, perhaps your date?” He tilts his head at me in question.

I raise my head up high, attempting to look confident with my body language.

“No, I’m not looking for anyone.”

“Then who are you here with, miss?”

I try to play my cards correctly with him.

“Well, it seems right now, that I’m here with you.” I flash a bright smile at him, reaching to grab two champagne flutes from a waiter walking by us. I offer one to him, and as he takes it, I raise mine up to him in a toast.

“To meeting new friends”, I announce, clinking my glass with his.

“To new friends”, he agrees, and we each take a sip. I don’t feel like chugging the entire thing in front of him is the proper etiquette, even though I would love to.

“So, miss, may I ask your name, and what you’re looking for at this party?”

The questions make me feel like I’m the one being interrogated, but I go with it as best I can.

“Of course. My name…my name is…Solera.”

I give him the name I was born with, the name I hardly say anymore, and have all but forgotten about. I don’t like using it, but objectively, it’s a pretty name, rich and delicate, and seems to fit this occasion more than “Sky”. “And I’m here to see what a fine establishment like the Canto Bight Casino has to offer a young entrepreneur like myself.”

“Well, it is nice to make your acquaintance, Solera. The name is almost as beautiful as who it belongs to.” He bows forward slightly in a formal greeting. “My name is Ulrich Tagge, and I’d like to know more about what business ventures you are interested in. Maybe I can be of service.”

His offer seems genuine enough, and he steps closer to me, narrowing the gap between us. The sharp scent of his cigar fills my nose, and I have to shake my head slightly so I don’t cough.

We spend a good while chatting back and forth on the balcony. He discusses what type of business he does (legally), points out all the big-shots around the casino who are “associates” of his, and tells me funny and embarrassing stories about them, ones they would never want another person to know.

He truly is charming. Funny, witty, and not as pretentious as I would have guessed him to be.

I offer him as little information as I can, trying to limit the amount of lies I need to make up. I tell him I’m from Curoscant (which is true), and I’m here because I love parties (also true). I tell him my family has been in the racing business for generations (yikes), but I have been pursuing other business opportunities that are more lucrative. I pray he takes the hint correctly, and his subtle nod at me, indicates it may have worked.

“I could maybe help you with that, Miss Solera. Join me in my suite for further discussion?”

He offers his elbow out to me.

I immediately think of arriving here alone, only to be surprised by the Mandalorian showing up, offering his arm to me, as we entered the casino together.

I wrap my hand around him, and he guides me down the marble-covered hallway to his room.

I already figured there would be a guard or something, so I’m not surprised when…when…I see an IG droid monitoring the doorway?

_Fuck. A fucking IG droid?_

This is more than I had expected, and I eye the thing cautiously, as the Baron guides me through the doorway. Its lifeless eyes stare back at me, and I have to keep my body from shuddering.

I had gotten to know plenty of droids during my stay in the rebel base. I would even say some of them became my…friends. Had their own personalities. Their own thoughts, their own dreams. Droids could be great companions.

But these are different.

Assassin droids are different. Cold, hard, and lifeless, they only know what their programming tells them, they only do what their masters ask of them. They were terrifying to me, and now I have to remain composed, while the Baron and I enter his enormous suite.

If I wasn’t so shaken by the unexpected encounter at the door, I would have been thoroughly impressed. I feign excitement as I let go of his arm.

“It’s gorgeous, truly”, is all I can come up with, holding in a gulp.

“Yes, well, it’s mostly just a place for me to continue conducting my affairs. Please, sit.” He lowers himself on a luxurious white sofa, threaded with shimmering gold, and pats his hand gently next to him.

I look around the room quickly, noting the door to his bedroom leaning open just enough that I can see partly inside of it.

_New goal: get into that room, and get the hell out._

“Um, how about a drink first?” I advise, stepping directly towards the back of the large bar in the kitchen.

“That sounds lovely.”

I step behind the bar and grab two glasses.

“Anything in particular you want?” I inquire.

“Surprise me”, he preens.

_Oh, I can make that happen._

I flash him a smile as I start on two vodka martinis, rummaging through the plethora of alcohol, until I find the most expensive looking bottle. I turn it around in my hands to read the label.

_Looks like this one is from…ah, Cloud City. I’ve always wanted to visit Bespin._

He begins talking to me casually as I mix up the drinks, asking me more about my entrepreneurial goals.

“Well, to be blunt, I’ve been quite interested in more…precarious forms of business”, I confess to him in my lie.

“Precarious, you say?” He asks curiously, although I know _he_ knows what I’m talking about.

I smile slyly, holding his eye contact, as I reach down to my thigh and pull out a tranquilizing pill, ensuring he doesn’t notice my movement behind the bar. I quickly toss it into his drink and mix them both before answering.

“Yes, you know, it’s business that maybe some people are…afraid to get into.” The boldness in my voice comes through successfully, and I saunter my way to the couch, planting myself next to him and handing him his drink.

“But you’re not afraid, are you?” he asks me, and I can see the flame of interest in his eyes.

I look down and consider the drink in front of me. I think of Baron Tagge, one of the most powerful men I’ve ever come across, sitting right next to me. I think of the deadly IG droid hovering just outside the door.

And then, I think of the Mandalorian.

“No, I’m not afraid.”

I look him straight in the eyes, a fire blazing behind mine as well. I initiate a toast with him, clinking my glass on his, and taking a long swig. I look down through my mask as I sip, making sure he is also drinking his.

Success.

I smile warmly at him, and he goes to speak, but any words he was planning to say become trapped in his throat.

“Uh, um, suddenly…I just, I’m not feeling very well.” He leans forward in confusion, rubbing his head with his free hand.

“It’s okay, why don’t you just lay down and rest for a while.” I move forward and rest my hand on his shoulder, pretending to comfort him. He leans back on the couch, and just as he does so, he goes completely limp.

I stand and pull up his legs so he’s lying flat on the sofa.

After a good night’s sleep, he’ll wake up tomorrow feeling just fine, and won’t remember anything of what just happened, nor will he ever recognize my covered face.

A let out a sigh of relief, and make my way swiftly to his room.

Right away, I see his electronic ledger, and I quickly rifle through the computer to look at the data logs.

_Hmm, weapon and utility shipments. Uhh let’s see, freighter purchases, starship supplies…umm, umm, ah! Here, coordinates._

I find the list of locations, and reach down to my thigh once more, taking out the card decryptor and shoving it into the side of the computer. It doesn’t take long before I have all the information on my card, and I slip it out and back onto my thigh.

 _Easy enough_.

But of course, it can’t just be easy enough.

Just then, I hear a loud _clang_ outside the room, and I peek my eyes through the crack of the door, just in time for the IG unit to catch me in the act.

_Oh fuck. Fuck. There must have been a silent alarm on this computer, and IG is probably tapped into it. Dammit._

It’s something I didn’t think about, but probably should have. I don’t have time to curse myself now.

I frantically rush to shut the bedroom door, and struggle to push the dresser in front of it, knowing it won’t do much, but not sure what the hell else to do. I grunt, hurriedly trying to block the droid from coming in, but it’s already at the door, pushing against me.

I shout in anger and fear, knowing I’m going to be trapped in here if I don’t find another way out, or deal with this droid. I let go of the door and scramble to the bathroom. My heels slip on the hard marble floor, making me fall.

Just as the droid shoots a grappling hook from his metal arm, I pull myself into a somersault, and it just misses my ankle, whizzing by my ear instead.

I run into the bathroom and slam the door shut. I back away quickly, knowing I have little time to assess what to do. I tear my dress away from my thigh, exposing the gadgets through the rip in the satin. 

_The communicator._

I grab at it and hold it up to my mouth, clicking the button to speak, but then, I hesitate for some reason.

_Do I really need Mando to save me? What if he wouldn’t have been here tonight? What would I do then? Just die?_

I let go of the button instead of saying anything. I hear the loud metal stomps of the IG as it approaches the bathroom. A loud _thud_ rings through the floor as it pounds on the door, making me jump.

I don’t know if I can take this droid down, but I know I have to try, and I have to do it now.

_Thud._

I yank out the small throwing knife and hold it up to my face, closing my eyes and taking in a breath.

_Thud, thud, thud._

I click the button on the side of the knife, turning on the electric current at the blade’s tip.

 _Thud, thud…SLAM_.

I pull back my arm as the lock breaks, and the door swings open on its hinges, the droid stepping in.

I release my breath just as I let the knife go, the blade slicing quietly through the air towards its target.

It hits the mark, connecting to the wires just under the droid’s head. It falls limp on the ground, electricity crackling in a blue haze through its hardware.

Before I can breathe a sigh of relief, I hear rustling outside the room. I leap over and rip the knife out of the IG’s neck, crouching down on all fours, not hesitating as I throw it once again in the direction of the noise.

It whizzes through the air before swiftly connecting with a beskar gauntlet.

My jaw drops, as I see the Mandalorian standing outside the room, arm raised up in defense, my knife lying on the ground beneath him.

“Oh, Mando!” I exclaim at him, and I have to stop myself from running up and embracing his armored body. Instead, I stand up and pull my tattered dress over my exposed leg. “Wow, I am so sorry”, I huff out, apologizing for almost slicing him up.

He huffs at me in return.

“That was a good throw, looks like your second best of the night.” He notes the dropped IG droid lying in the bathroom.

“Yeah, well, you both look the same, and I got a little confused. Cold, hard, covered in metal, not very funny.” I joke with him, happy with both my success at taking down the droid, and _not_ taking Mando out in the process.

He rolls his head dramatically at me, the gesture equal to an extravagant eye roll.

I can’t help but smile at him.

“Seems like the Baron missed a good show in here, I take it you were successful in getting what you needed?”

“Yes, I think I was.”

The way his helmet stays on me makes the smile fade from my face.

“Mando, what is it?” I tilt my head at him with furrowed brows.

“Why didn’t you contact me? It looks like you could’ve gotten yourself into a mess here.”

“Well I um, I almost did…I mean, I tried. I pushed the button and everything when I was in the bathroom, but, but, I hesitated.”

“You hesitated, why?”

I hang my head down in embarrassment, not really knowing why I’m blushing at his words.

“I just, I wanted to do this myself. You aren’t always going to be here to rescue me…and, and, you were busy with your own stuff.”

He says nothing in response for a while, and I look back up at him. He’s just standing there looking at me through his helmet. His chest rises and falls slowly with every breath.

“I told you to contact me if you needed help. And I meant it.”

His words hit my chest hard, and a lump forms in my throat. I remain mostly embarrassed, but thankful too, and heat rises into my cheeks.

“Why are you here, Mando?” I ask, emboldened by his statement.

“I thought that trouble might find you, or the other way around. So I figured I should come check on you. I heard the commotion when I came in…but, it looks like you did well enough on your own. Congrats on your mission.”

I sigh in relief, as the tense moment breaks, and offer him another smile.

“Thank you.”

He nods.

I grab my throwing knife, and turn back to the IG droid, sighing at the sight.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it later. I’ll find a nice dumpster for it to occupy”, he offers cynically.

I thank him, and try quickly tidying up the room as best I can. I hope nothing noticeable stands out from the skirmish. I yank the bathroom door lock back into place, while the Mandalorian puts the dresser into its original position.

I nod at him in thanks, and start making my way out of the room. But then, I consider something, and stop in place.

“Mando…how…how did you get in here? The suite, I mean.”

“I grappled up the side of the building, came in the balcony doors.”

_My stars._

“Of course you did.”

I roll my eyes at him, not at all surprised by that, as I breeze into the living room. Baron Tagge remains snoring softly on the couch, looking at peace.

I can feel the Mandalorian’s helmet watching me intently. I decide to go up behind the bar again, and once I turn around, I face him directly.

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d like to continue enjoying my night”, I announce to him, grabbing a glass and dumping some ice into it.

He doesn’t say anything, but takes a seat in front of me at the bar.

It’s funny, it feels like we are back at the strip club, me bartending, and him sitting there, looking as out-of-place as ever.

“So, I’m guessing your night was successful as well? I mean, as far as bounties go.”

“Yes.”

“Any of them give you trouble?” I raise my eyebrow up at him, pouring extra vodka into my cup.

“No more than they usually do.”

I laugh, probably louder than I should, but I’m having a hard time not being satisfied with how the night turned out. I can’t wait to just let loose for a bit.

I quickly take a swig of my mixed drink, the cool liquid running smoothly down my throat. I sigh in satisfaction, then look towards the Mandalorian, who continues staring at me.

“Do you…do you want one?” I ask him, raising my glass up in indication.

“Sure.”

_Uhhh, okay? I didn’t expect that answer._

“What do you want?”

“Anything you give me.”

_Oookay. Again, not what I was expecting._

I rush to grab another glass, hoping my face doesn’t flush red. I fill it up with some ice and expensive whiskey (the label reads “Corellia”), and slide the glass towards his hand.

“You look like a straight whiskey type of guy, to me.”

He takes the glass and lifts it up.

“So, what are we celebrating, exactly?” he inquires.

“Um, how about celebrating a successful night. One where Mando got his bounties, I got my intel, the Baron got some extra sleep, and a stupid IG droid got what it deserved.”

A huff spills from his modulator, and his shoulders fall up and down as he chuckles lightly. He lifts up his glass to me, and I do the same with mine.

“A toast, then, to droids getting what they deserve”, he says, clinking his glass with mine.

I gurgle down the rest of my drink, too happy to care about my manners in front of him. Once I’m done, I realize he hasn’t moved his glass yet.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Mando, here.”

I turn my back to him, holding on to my empty cup, so he can have some privacy.

I hear a hissing sound as his helmet raises up, then a slurping noise when he takes a drink. The sound makes my stomach drop, and I close my eyes tightly at the thought of his lips touching the cool glass.

 _Yikes, I need another drink_.

When I hear him place his helmet back down, I turn around and start making myself another vodka soda. There is a slight vibration through the floor, making all the glass rattle momentarily. We both look towards the large doors leading out to the balcony.

“More races”, I presume out loud.

“Mmm”, he agrees.

“Let’s go watch for a while.”

“Alright.”

I finish making my drink (a double shot, by my standards), and begin walking toward the doors. I open them, ensuring Mando is still far enough behind me, so he can keep lifting his helmet up and down, without fear of me seeing.

The sprawling balcony almost looks like a courtyard. There are exotic plants all around; large purple and red leaves spill out of huge basins, and spidery vines hang down around the creamy outside walls. There is a large pool in the center of the area, the vibrant blue color looking cool and inviting.

_Too bad I didn’t bring a suit._

I amble over to the ledge, and look down at the sight of the racetrack. For being as late as it is, there are a lot of people still out and about, and the races continue on. There is faint hollering and laughter as the bustling racetrack hums with a seemingly everlasting energy.

 _This city doesn’t sleep_.

Mando comes up behind me, taking a sip of his drink before putting his helmet down again. I turn to face him, and grin.

I feel light as a feather, the drinks starting to hit me just right, flowing through my body and replacing the built-up tension from the events of the night.

I kick my heels off (with some difficulty), carefully peel off the garter from my thigh, and jump up onto the ledge of the balcony. It’s big enough to sit on and hang my legs over, but in my boldness, I decide to balance on my tip toes, walking daintily along the edge. Once I get to the end, I lift a leg and attempt to spin around using only one foot.

It’s a bad move.

My coordination is off, and my foot slips, lurching me sideways.

My momentum stops suddenly, as Mando snatches my left arm and yanks me back to solid ground. My head whips around, as I land with a gasp.

“Ah! Whoops, that could’ve been bad”, I laugh to myself, knowing he won’t think it’s funny.

“Could you at least _try_ to take care of yourself? If not for your own sake, then for my sanity, please?”

He lets out a sigh, and leans himself against the ledge with his arms at his sides, facing away from the sprawling view in front of us.

I look towards him lazily and offer a two-fingered salute.

“Sorry Mando, just trying to have fun.”

I roll my head up and down his metal body, not caring if he catches me staring anymore. Since I’m filled to the brim with happiness and libation, I decide to double down.

I slink towards him, stepping on the pads of my feet, legs crossing in a lazy catwalk. I reach out my hand and place it on his glove, looking up into his helmet. He looks down at me without a word.

I run my hand gently up his bracer, eyes remaining locked on his visor.

“Remember when I did this to you, when we first met, at the club?” I question, trailing my hand up his pauldron.

“Yeah.”

Down to his chest plate now.

“Remember how you didn’t like it at first?”

He doesn’t respond.

“I was scared of you then. You were too quiet, and stiff, and didn’t care for my charms at all.”

I trace up his other pauldron, as he remains still.

“I guess…you’re still like that. But it’s different now. You’re different, with me.”

I make my way down his other arm, stopping at his glove.

“You may actually find yourself having a great night, if you aren’t careful”, I tease the words around my lips, pouting up to him through my mask.

Finally, he breaks his silence.

“You want me to have fun?”

“Of course I do.”

I think he’s going to speak again, but instead, he reaches his arm up and grabs my face with one hand.

 _Stars alive,_ his hands are huge. This one easily holds me in place, nearly covering both my cheeks with his glove.

I gulp, as warmth immediately floods my body, mixing with the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream.

He holds tight.

“M-M-Mando?” I squeak out through his grip, wondering what his intentions are, now that he has my full attention.

With a flash of his other arm, he grabs my exposed thigh, and hitches it against his hip.

The move knocks the wind out of me, and I gasp at the chilling touch of his beskar against the delicate inside of my thigh.

He holds steady.

It feels like my skin is visibly humming, his touch remaining on me for longer than I could’ve imagined. He nearly burns a hole through my mask, his shrouded gaze piercing fiercely into my eyes.

I begin to reach up to touch his helmet, to feel the coolness of the chiseled metal on my hand, the desire overtaking everything else.

But suddenly, I find myself falling backward. His grip loosens on me as I flail my arms out, hoping to grab something sturdy, but only catching air between my fingers.

And then, _SPLASH_.

The water rushes me from all sides, and the coolness of it freezes up my lungs momentarily. I let myself sink to the bottom of the pool, and push up forcefully to go back to the surface.

A ragged gasp tears through my throat when I breach the water, and I sputter out garbled profanities between deep breaths of air.

I whip towards where the Mandalorian is standing, and I see him doubled over, as if he’s in pain.

“Mando!” I yell out, swimming towards the ladder so I can get out and help him.

I pull myself up and out, but before I reach him, I stop.

I see him holding onto his knees, bent over slightly, but I also hear him. I hear him, and it’s not pain, or frustration, or a cry for help.

He’s…laughing.

His shoulders and chest move up and down rapidly, and he’s using his legs as a crutch, chuckles racking through his body.

Both the anger and fear leave me, not washed away by the water, but by the sound of his laughter.

It rips cleanly through his modulator, and I can’t help but think that it sounds like a melody. It’s a sound I’ve never heard from him before, a sound I wasn’t sure he was capable of making.

My heart could’ve thumped right out of my chest, and I wouldn’t have even known.

After what feels like an eternity in my mind, but probably only a few seconds in real-time, his laughter subsides, and he raises himself back up to face me. He nearly doubles over again when he sees me, and the reaction affirms my fear: I look exactly like a wet romp rat.

“Jerk”, I spit at him, but I can’t help the grin tugging at my lips. 

“I’m-I’m sorry, Sky. That wasn’t very nice of me”, he apologizes, his helmet shaking back and forth.

“Was that your idea of sobering me up, or what?”

“Something like that”, he says jokingly. The way in which he says the words, makes it sound like he’s smiling. I wish I could see it.

I roll my eyes at him, and reach down to grab my wet mask out of the pool. I shake it off and set it next to my heels and garter. I reach for my drink, and walk over to the ledge again. I leap up on it, and immediately sit, scooching my ass forward until my legs dangle off the sides. I leave a trail of wetness behind, and I begin yanking the bobby pins out of my dripping hair, shaking it loose so it falls down to my shoulders.

“This dress costs me a lot of credits, I’ll have you know”, I remind him, settling into my seat.

“It’s already ripped”, he remarks from behind me.

“Ugh, _fine_ , well I’m glad I could entertain you for once”, I tell him, trying and failing to hold annoyance in my tone.

“I appreciate that.”

He seems proud of his own antics, and honestly, it makes me giddy.

He walks over to the ledge and jumps up with a grunt, situating himself right next to me.

I watch him kick his legs up and down while they hang. The move seems out of character for him, playful and childish in a way that ties my stomach in knots. He seems so relaxed.

As I see his visor running up and down my soaked dress, I finally realize I’m shivering.

_Yeah, I wasn’t prepared to get wet like this._

The shaking suddenly seems to pick up even faster, and now my teeth are audibly chattering. It isn’t that cold out, but the warmth of my skin is clashing too much with the cool breeze.

He takes a moment to stand up, balancing himself as he reaches behind his head. I strain to look up at him as he takes off his cloak, gathering it in his hand and offering it to me.

I take it gratefully, smiling up at him, as he lowers himself once more onto the ledge.

“Thank you”, I say to him, wrapping myself up in the cape. He nods in response, as he settles at my side.

“You want me to grab you a blanket or something from inside? I’m sure that would be much more comfortable”, he offers.

The rough fabric of his cloak is slightly itchy on my skin, and it’s unable to cover up my entire body. Yet, I feel my shivers lesson, my body reacting to the notion that I’m wrapped up in something that’s _his._ The thought provides me enough warmth to make up for it all.

“No, this is perfect.”

Just then, a flash of multicolored lights streak through the air, followed closely by muffled booming. We both snap our heads forward, as fireworks begin blasting off in the distance, somewhere near the outskirts of the city near the cliffs.

His gaze remains on the distant display, but mine shifts back to him. For a moment, I watch as the strobing lights make colorful reflections in his shiny helmet, noting how my red handprint still lingers on the side of his so-called “face”. 

It all seems to hit me at once, my eyes continuing to hold on the Mandalorian, despite the amazing display happening in front of us. The warmth from the cloak, the alcohol, and the closeness between us makes my stomach flip, and I feel slightly loopy, intoxicated by the intimacy of it all.

I lean my body sideways to stable myself, putting my head lightly against his pauldron. He breaks his gaze and looks down at me. 

I lift my head up, ready to apologize, but I don’t get to.

He lifts his arm up and places it behind me, pulling at my side hard enough that I scoot closer to him. I now find my legs pressed up against him tightly, and I’m able to rest the side of my face more comfortably on his chest plate. I pull my legs up to my own chest, forming into a ball of dizzying comfort, pressing nearly my full weight against his side. He rests his arm gently on my shoulder.

I let out a long sigh into his chest, nuzzling my face downwards, as I peek up at the spectacular light show. I can feel his heartbeat thumping rhythmically below my cheek.

We stay like this for a while, without a word. I focus mostly on the colors dancing around his armor, lulled into sleep as each minute passes.

I feel my eyes drooping closed, and in my drunken exhaustion, words start to spill out, my brain unable to filter them any longer.

“Mando?” I address him, almost in a sigh.

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re here with me tonight.”

As a response, he squeezes my shoulder gently.

“I know this…isn’t how you typically work. You do things on your own, mostly, and I understand that. But you…you have been so patient with me, and have dealt with my stubbornness better than most people would.”

I feel his chest vibrate beneath me when he chuckles. I raise my head up, but can barely keep my eyes open.

“I just…I hope that you know, I’m grateful. And…and…I hope we can continue…being friends.”

Through my hazy brain, it occurs to me that we will have to part ways again soon. The thought lurches my insides around, and I feel the tugging sensation that I dislike so much.

“I just…I…I-”

His chin clinks against his chest plate, as he looks down at me.

“I feel like every time you leave, it’ll be the last time I ever see you again. I don’t…like that feeling.”

He remains fixed on my face.

“I just know that…when you leave…I-I’m going to miss…miss y-”

I don’t even know whether I finish the sentence or not, losing track of my own voice, as I fall into blissful unconsciousness.


	7. The Specter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mini-chapter!!!  
> This was originally going to be the beginning of the next chapter, but when I finished it, I thought it deserved to stand alone as a quick break in the main story.  
> It is SUPER trippy, and was fun to write. The ending even had ME shook.  
> Back to our regularly scheduled chapters next time!

My eyes flutter open slowly.

I have to raise my hand up to block the harsh light coming through a window on my left.

I seem to be in a bed, and I raise myself onto my elbows, blinking the lingering sleep from my lids. I’m met with the familiar sight of the Razor Crest surrounding me.

_How did I get here?_

I struggle to remember the events that unfolded late into the night, and a strange haze hangs in the air, which confuses me even more. I feel wobbly, and at first, I think it’s from a hangover, but I begin realizing the ship is moving.

I try to look outside the small window, but it’s too bright, and I have to avert my gaze. 

_Where are we flying? And, why?_

I get up from the bed as quickly as my body will allow, and notice I am no longer in my red dress, in its place a large black t-shirt and jeans. I push the button to open the door.

I immediately see the Mandalorian standing there, in full armor, the overhead lights reflecting off his shiny helmet. He looks to be doing some maintenance work on the hull, sparks floating gently down to the floor from his cauterizer.

“Mando?” I address him quietly.

“Hey you, good morning, or, good afternoon, whichever you prefer.” He doesn’t look at me, focusing on dragging his tool over some loose wiring.

I run a hand through my hair and rub my neck, trying to remember how to understand words.

“How…how long was I out?” I ask him, sort of concerned.

“Oh, I’m not sure, I lost track of time a few days back.”

_What?_

Before I can ask him what he means, the ship takes a dip to the left, and I have to grab hold of the wall to keep from stumbling over.

My eyes bug open wide, finally realizing that the Crest is moving, but Mando is down here in the cabin.

“Mando, who is piloting the ship?!” I start freaking out, wondering just what in the actual hell is happening.

“You don’t need to worry, the ship always knows where to go.”

“Oh.”

 _I am losing my fucking mind_.

I shake my head back and forth, in the hopes I may loosen up a few brain cells that seem to be clumped together.

“Can you hand me that wrench over there?” I notice him lift his gloved hand and point to a shelf. I walk over, grab the tool, and set it in his palm, still feeling dazed.

“Thanks, I need to get the ship fixed before dawn.” He tightens up some loose screws, grunting as he works.

I gulp.

“What happens at dawn?”

“You tell me.”

“I…I-”

My failing sentence is cut short by rustling up in the cockpit.

I hear a shrill of laughter, one that I recognize.

I whip my head back at Mando, who shifts his helmet up to me, and shrugs. I leave him in the cabin, while I climb into the cockpit.

As soon as the door opens, I see Sashev, Khoan, and Jax, all sitting in a circle together, playing some sort of card game. Their arms and legs are bound together, but…they aren’t struggling.

They look…comfortable.

They finally notice me standing there, and I can even see Jax smile through the blood covering most of his face.

“Hey girly! How’s it going?” Sashev addresses me happily.

“You wanna play?” Khoan asks me, almost simultaneously.

“Um, no thanks, and it’s…it’s going alright. Are you...are you guys okay?”

“Of course we’re okay!” Jax says with delight, and I notice blood streaming down his shirt from the blaster wound in his chest.

“Why are you guys here?” I implore them, my eyes shifting between each of their faces with worry.

“You brought us with you, remember?” Sashev reminds me, as if I’m supposed to know what she’s talking about.

“Yeah, you won’t let us go”, Khoan speaks up, as he raises his hands, wrists tied together with rope.

“Hey come on guys! It’s my turn to play a card, and I have a _really_ good hand”, Jax interjects.

The other two groan in unison, rolling their eyes at him, and return to the game.

I look towards the unmanned cockpit, and all I can see outside the windows, is blue.

A dark blue, rich, and deep, and vast.

Flashes of stars whiz past the ship, and I figure out that we are in hyperspace. My stomach drops, anxious as to where we’re headed.

I turn away from my friends, addressing them one last time.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

“I hope we get there before dawn!” Sashev calls out.

I step down the ladder again, and lower myself into the cabin.

When I look up, I see the Mandalorian in the same spot I had left him, but he’s facing away from me.

His armor is gone, replaced by a simple tan shirt and dark pants, his bare feet making sticky noises on the metal floor.

When I glaze over his body, up to his head, I don’t see the shine of his helmet anymore.

It’s not there, resting in its usual place on his shoulders.

Instead, my eyes take in a full head of curly, dark brown waves that fall in fuzzy tufts down the back of his neck.

I gasp at the sight.

He hears me, and swings his body around in my direction.

I quickly raise my hand up to cover my eyes, and turn around.

“Mando! Your…your helmet is off”, I remark to him breathlessly, as if he doesn’t already know.

“It’s been off this whole time. You just weren’t looking.”

“I…don’t understand.”

“It’s okay, you can look.”

His words linger in my ears, and I take my hand away from face, slowly turning back to him.

His beautiful dark curls shape his…face. If you can call it that. The basic features are there, although hazy and slightly distorted.

A prominent nose, deep-set eyes, strong brow, full lips.

But it’s like I’m looking at him through carbonite gas. I can’t make out the details, and no matter how hard I try to focus, the way he looks remains…unfinished.

I realize that it’s the face I made up for him in my mind. Never having seen it, I had to come up with a basic outline, in order to satisfy my own need to give a face to the man behind the armor.

My desire to see him, fully uncovered, is something I know will never happen. He will always be incomplete.

Always.

He seems to be looking at me, but it’s hard to tell.

“Listen, I’ve had my mask off for a while. So, I think it’s time to take yours off, too.”

I raise my hand up to my face, ensuring I don’t have my mask from last night’s party still on.

“Uh, Mando, I don’t have a mask on, see?” I point up to my head, scrunching up my face into different expressions to prove it.

His head shakes back and forth.

“Come on, Solera, it’s time.”

I raise my brows at him, eyes wide with shock, and for a second, I am frightened.

“You…you don’t know me by that name.”

His lack of response scares me even more, and I take one step backward. With unreal speed, his hand flies out and catches me by the arm, holding me tight.

“Take it off”, he demands.

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?” He tilts his head at me, curls falling into his blurry eyes.

“…I’m afraid.”

Just then, the Crest jolts out of hyperspace, and both of us stumble sideways, steadying ourselves with the wall.

“We’re here”, he announces.

“Where is _here?_ ”

Silence.

The growing anxiety creeps into my skin. I begin to get nervous, as I feel the ship swing around, about to land.

We come down with a light _thud_.

Mando hits the button to open the platform, and I squint my eyes, expecting harsh light to flood in.

But instead, no light floods through the fully opened door. In fact, it’s darker outside than in the ship. I can’t see the ground, or the sky, from where I’m standing.

I make a move towards the ramp, but stop, when I hear jostling come from the ladder.

My friends are scrambling down, almost on top of each other, rushing to grab their bags and get outside, their hands and feet no longer bound.

“Come _on_ , you guys, I want to see which one of us gets killed first! It’ll be my second time!” Jax implores the other two, stomping his foot with eagerness. His boots leave behind a trail of blood as he moves around.

“Jeeze, hold up a sec dude, let us grab our shit”, Sashev chides at him.

Before I can even speak, the three of them run off the ramp, into the darkness.

I look back to the Mandalorian, who remains standing, arms crossed, at the entrance of the hull.

“Are you ready?” He asks me.

“I don’t know.”

He walks up to me, and holds out his hand.

I take it, intertwining my fingers with his. He begins walking down the ramp, but I yank him backwards.

“Mando! You don’t have your armor on”, I remind him.

“I don’t need it. Besides, you have yours on, that should keep us safe.”

I look down at my simple shirt and jeans, and back up at his fuzzy face.

Before I can protest, the wind picks up outside, howling fiercely through the air. I let go of his hand to step in front of him, making my way down the platform.

My boots hit what feels like sand. There is a dense fog covering the dark atmosphere, and no matter which way I look, I see nothing but a cloudy haze.

I continue walking until I am a good ways from the ship, drawn to something I don’t see, or understand.

I look back at the slim shape of the Mandalorian, still standing there, illuminated in the lights of the Crest. I think I see him nod at me. His lips don’t move, but I can hear his voice crystal clear in my head, as if he were standing right next to me.

_“You go on, I’ll catch up.”_

I turn back around, and continue walking forward, further and further away from the safety of the ship.

I stop abruptly when I hear a strange noise, a _whoosh_ that is not wind, come from in front of me.

Bending my knees, I settle into a fighting position, reacting to an unknown force I begin to feel in the air.

I hear what sounds like footsteps through the dirt, faintly audible over the moaning wind.

I squint and raise my fists, but can see nothing in front of me. My eyes shift back and forth, ears perking up as the steps stop suddenly. I lower my breathing even more, trying to listen for any small noise.

I jump at the sudden sound that rips through the quiet.

 _KISHHHHHHHHHHHH_.

The sound is accompanied by a bright red flame that flickers on, cutting horizontally through the darkness. The blade looks like fire dancing around itself, emitting a contained energy that hums in the wind.

I plant my foot behind me and dig it into the ground, preparing to fight, holding my gaze on the red sword hovering in front of me.

_KISHHHHHHHHHHHH._

I see another flame jut out the opposite end.

The brightness finally reveals a hooded figure, standing in between the double-bladed sword, holding it by the hilt in the middle with a gloved hand.

I raise myself out of my stance, putting my arms down by my sides, as both fear and awe take over my entire being.

Through the shrouded cloak, I can make out a dark face hiding underneath. I can’t see any features, but I start to choke up, memories of stories long past flooding to the forefront of my mind.

A sudden gust of wind whips through the air, catching the black hood. His head is revealed, horns wrapping around it like a wicked crown.

As calmly as I can, voice quaking, I break the silence.

“I know who you are.”

My words are carried away by the whistling wind, and a hush settles around me and my enemy.

He opens his eyes, their blinding yellow piercing straight into my very soul.

I gasp, as my fears are confirmed.

All goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, I’m sure you guys figured out that this was a dream Sky had. Well, maybe a nightmare. Maybe a mix of both? 
> 
> I tried to add some symbolism into the weirdness, and her small moment with helmet-less Mando tugged at my heart strings. Ugh, I just can’t wait to see how their relationship develops. 
> 
> Anyone else get goosebumps from the mysterious phantom of the past? :)


	8. The Base

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOOOONG Chapter but the hanky-panky at the end makes me HAPPY. Yes, Sky finally gets a little Mando action in the training room.  
> I would literally risk it all for them and it's just starting to get good!

I hop on the speeder and start the ignition. 

The thing rumbles to life underneath me, and I have to grab the handles to stable myself.

This poor bike doesn’t get much use; everywhere I typically travel in Canto Bight is within walking distance. But hey, I guess it’s useful now, if it helps get me to the Mandalorian quicker.

I was off to meet up with him, somewhere on the outskirts of the city. When I talked to him earlier on the comm, he seemed to be taking his time with whatever he was doing. Probably maintenance on the ship, something his occupation forces him to do a lot more than is typical.

Amid his staticky grunts and huffs crackling through the speaker, he had worded-out the coordinates of his location to me, which I now punch into the bike’s navigation.

Before heading off, I take a brief moment to recall what transpired this morning.

I had finally woken up, in the comfort of my own bed, body shaking with sweat from the insane fever-dream I had at some point during the night. Relief flowed through me as I laid there, nestled into the soft and very _real_ sheets and pillows surrounding me. Yet, a sense of dread clung to the outer reaches of my mind.

My body twitches, jarring me slightly above the bike, and I close my eyes in an effort to force the nightmare out of my thoughts.

I remember being even more relieved when Sashev had plowed through the door, a caf and sandwich in her hands, just for me. I was happy as could be by her presence, that was, until she explained the events of the night previous, which were still hazy to me.

She and Khoan had come to pick me up from the casino, only to find the Mandalorian basically carrying me at his side, slumped over and clinging to his hard body. I had brief flashes of memory about this, wishing instead that I had no recollection whatsoever.

Mando had loaded me into Khoan’s speeder, and apparently made the trip with us back to my apartment, where he also supposedly helped me up the stairs into my room.

Again, only brief recollection on my part, which really served to just make me feel even worse.

To say I’m embarrassed, is an understatement. I could barely believe I had been that irresponsible. I found myself now, more than ever, thanking the stars for Mando, my saving grace, who had remembered to grab my utility garter with all my important gadgets on it, and place it safely on my desk.

I sigh heavily, the sound not even audible over the noise of the speeder.

After Sashev had left me to stew in my own embarrassment, I had also sent the information I gathered from the Baron to the Rebel base. That all went fine, except when the operator flagged some of the coordinates as potential hot zones for criminal activity. Exactly what the Republic has been looking for. A transport was scheduled to pick me up later this evening.

The thought of leaving my friends again was unsettling, although expected. I usually had to report back to the base once per month, and Sashev was more than happy to watch my place while I was gone, if only to get away from her own housing situation (roommates, ugh). The note I had left for her in my apartment had no precise indication of when I would return. All that I could offer her without knowing when I would be back was: _See you soon._ I had drawn a heart next to it. 

While backing the speeder out of the garage, I lower a pair of dusty goggles onto my eyes. They’re so grimy that they actually make it hard for me to see, but I know the dust that’s about to kick up when I start moving will be even worse for my vision.

I ensure all my gear is settled into its respective place, and nothing will jostle around too much when I take off.

Just then, over the sputtering of the bike, I hear a screech come through the comm. I stop the speeder in place, and lift the device up to hear it clearer. A few more staticky sounds, but I don’t hear Mando’s voice.

“Mando? Mando, are you there?”

The other end clicks silent.

 _Hmm_.

His lack of response makes me uneasy, and I pull the bike into first gear quickly, pushing down on the pedal _hard_. I race off towards the Razor Crest, with way more speed than I should.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Before long, I spot the ship, just on the outer reaches of the large forest, south of the city. I breathe a sigh of relief at the familiar sight, while slowing the bike down to an eventual halt.

I park it next to the Crest’s open hatch, whipping the dusty goggles off my head, ready to make my way inside.

But, I stop.

It’s…really quiet.

I don’t hear anything coming from inside the hull. Not the usual clanking around of his armor, or grunting of his modulated voice while he works. The silence fills me with a slight dismay.

I peek inside, and don’t see him.

_He can’t be far, he would never leave the hull door open like this._

I scan my eyes around the outside of the ship. Once I make it to the tree line, about 40 yards away, I pause, catching sight of something in the pale morning light.

A glint of metal shines in the sun, although I can’t make out exactly what position it’s in.

I begin walking towards it, my pace quickening with every step, until I am full-on sprinting towards the Mandalorian, who I find lying face-up on the ground.

I slide down on my knees and immediately grab him by the shoulders, shaking him profusely.

“Mando, MANDO!”

His helmet bobbles limply back and forth. I shove my fingers under his helmet, against his windpipe.

_There’s a pulse. Faint, too slow, but it’s there._

I quickly assess the area, in hopes to find the source of what’s happened.

My body goes completely rigid once I realize I’m surrounded, on every side, by six Trandoshans, all dead from the looks of it. Their bodies lay unmoving, nearly making a perfect circle around Mando and me.

_A bounty gone wrong? No, no. This looks like an ambush._

Trandoshans are fierce hunters, not native to this planet, and it looks as though a group of them have (or, had) taken up residence in the forest.

I hurriedly turn my attention back to Mando, trying to discover what’s wrong with him. I can’t see anything on the surface that’s cause for concern. No blood, no dents in his armor, nothing visibly alarming from a quick once-over.

I resolve that I need to get him back to the safety of the ship, take his armor off, and get a better look. I grab his gun from the ground and holster it back into its rightful place on his hip. He’s going to be heavy, so I try my best to dig my heels into the soft dirt, as I start dragging him backward towards the Crest.

I try to pick up my pace, but he’s _so_ goddamned heavy with the armor on. I grunt my way through it, slowly progressing back to the safe haven that lies somewhere behind me.

Once we arrive, me completely out of breath, I set his upper body down gently just outside the hatch, shifting over to his side.

I rush to peel off his beskar plates, starting at his legs, making my way up his body, creating a nice pile of shiny metal parts next to the ship’s ramp. I run my hands up and down his jumpsuit, trying to feel anything of note through the fabric.

_Nothing._

“Why won’t you wake up?” I plea to his unmoving form, voice cracking with increasing concern.

A realization hits me, and I gasp at the thought that he may have a head injury, one that I can’t see. I clamber up to his helmet and look into his dark visor.

“Mando, I need to take your helmet off.”

I stop myself from lifting it up, to say one more thing to him.

“I-I won’t look, I promise.”

Even if he isn’t conscious, I feel like he still needs to hear the words from me. Just in case.

Slowly, I remove the beskar from his head, closing my eyes as I slide it all the way off. I set it next to me with the rest of his armor, and begin to feel out for him, until my hands find his face.

Electricity jolts through my fingers as they make first contact with his cheeks. I work them up to his nose, feeling the prominent bridge of it with my thumb.

_All good._

I trace my way over the rest of his features, hands trembling in blatant reaction to the way his warm skin feels against my touch. Without being able to open my eyes and physically look at him, I can only make guesses at his actual appearance, and it feels like the robbery of my eyesight has enhanced my sense of touch.

His eyes are intact, I feel no blood coming from his ears, all good signs. I run a thumb over his lips, and nearly shudder at their softness.

I wonder what color they are. A soft pink? Or slightly darker, like the rest of his skin. Maybe more red? They feel full and pouty.

A sigh releases from my throat, and before the warm feeling deep in my stomach can manifest itself any further, I shift to the top of his head. I run both hands through the vast mat of curls, trying to find any touchable injury. 

_Fuck, nothing_. _There’s nothing._

I place his helmet back on him, and open my eyes once it rests again on his shoulders.

I begin to get frustrated.

I don’t like being here, in the middle of nowhere, out in the open like this. Exposed. It feels like we’re being watched.

Struggling to focus on my task, the notion of panic starting to fill my senses, I undo his jumpsuit and lift his shirt up, revealing his beautifully tanned skin hiding underneath.

I graze my fingertips gently over the raised marring of old and new scars that litter his taught abdomen. My body shudders as the increasing terror suddenly clashes with my own ridiculous desires, brought on by the sickening warmth of his soft skin under my palm. My senses are a complete mess at this point, caught somewhere between outright panic and nauseating arousal.

I shake my head back and forth, attempting to physically rid myself of the offensive thoughts plaguing me. While doing so, I register a small rip in his pants, just at his waistline. I rub my finger over it.

_Yep, definitely a rip._

It’s so miniscule, and I almost ignore it, but instead, I hike down his pants just enough to expose the skin below the tear.

There’s a tiny cut, just under the surface of his skin. I see a small amount of blood that has coagulated near the top. But, that isn’t what concerns me.

My eyes bug open wide, as I see wicked branches of green shooting out of the cut, twisting their way up and down his side, their surface area seemingly growing larger and larger as I stare down at it.

_Poison._

I try my best to remain calm, but I have no idea what to do at this point.

Leaving his side for a moment, I race back towards the dead Trandoshans, in hopes I will possibly find the blade that did this to him.

I catch a glimpse of a small dagger near one of their limp corpses. Once I snatch it up, I run my hand down the hilt, and lift it up to my nose. The smell nearly knocks me backward.

_This is definitely it._

It may be of help to him, so I run back, wrapping the knife up in a spare shirt.

I fumble around and nearly drop it, startled by distant shouting from within the forest.

I whip my head towards the source of the commotion, and all I can make out are tiny shapes, moving quickly, running directly toward us.

More Trandoshans. Too many. Way too many for me to try and take on alone.

They’re closing in quickly.

An increasing adrenaline pounds through my veins. I have to make a decision on what to do, and I have to do it now.

I look at my speeder.

_I can get him on it without the armor, take him back to town. But, will we make it in time? What if no one can save him?_

I turn my gaze to the Crest.

Even though my throat is completely dry, I gulp.

The logical part of my brain knows exactly what I need to do at this point, but my body won’t budge. I stand there, choking back a panic attack.

_I need to fly the ship. I need to take him to the Rebel base. I need to get him help. That’s what I need to do._

My head rattles back and forth, tears filling my eyes, as my body continues to reject the notion.

I knew I could pilot the ship, I knew it. But that wasn’t the problem.

When I lost my mother to the Empire, I told myself I would never fly again. I would never put myself in the position she was in, when she died. I couldn’t bear it. I had made that promise to myself, a promise I didn’t have the strength to break.

Body shaking, eyes watery from fear, I look down at the motionless Mandalorian beneath me.

 _I have to fly the ship. I have to. For him_.

Through some will of the Maker himself, I finally start moving.

I snatch up my supplies from the speeder and sling them on my back, grabbing Mando underneath his armpits, and hauling him up the platform. He’s lighter without all the beskar on, and I make quick work of it. I heave his armor and everything else onto the ship, and slam the button down to initiate closing the ramp, just as the small army of Trandoshans closes in on us.

I can hear them hollering in contempt, their cries echoing through the hull as it closes. I lay Mando down gently in the cabin, spinning myself around and climbing up to the cockpit as fast as I can.

I fiddle with the controls, flipping on the ignition and starting up the Crest. It hums to life under me, and I barely strap myself in before it lifts off the ground, the cries from the enemy outside slowly fading away. I punch in the coordinates for the base, looking out the windows in front of me, and down to the sprawling view of Canto Bight in the distance.

I think of my friends, and wonder when I will see them again. I think of the city, and how much has happened within its walls over the past months. We leave the atmosphere, and I say a silent goodbye to the planet of Cantonica.

It doesn’t take long before I launch us into hyperspace.

__________________________________________________________________________________________ 

“Rebel command, this is RS131, come in Rebel command.”

The Crest jolts out of hyperspace as we reach our destination. The gigantic base looms directly in front of us.

_“Copy that RS131, this is Rebel command. We can’t get a signature from your aircraft, please reply.”_

“I’m flying in on a Razor Crest, no readable signature.”

_“We can’t allow you in, RS, I repeat, we can’t determine your signature.”_

Ignoring their warning, I veer the ship towards the landing zone.

_“RS, please comply.”_

“Listen _dammit_ , this is Sky reporting to base. I am flying in on this Maker-forsaken ship. I have an injured civilian in my care, and I need him taken to the med-bay immediately on landing.”

_“Uhhh, Sky, we can’t-”_

I switch off the communicator and punch down on the brakes, steadying the ship over the landing pad. The Crest hovers over the port, before I put us down at command base.

I flip the engine off and leap down the ladder to Mando’s side. I’m already dragging him by the shoulders before the hull door is fully opened. I can hear his filtered breath hitching in his helmet, his body beginning to twitch into small convulsions.

As the platform opens, there is already a crowd gathering, and I can hear murmurs of confusion, the anxiety in the room becoming more and more palpable with each passing moment.

“Where the hell are the medics?” I shout, out of breath, but loud enough to hush the growing number of people gawking at us.

I see a gurney being rushed toward us by two medical assistants. One of them, a lean, young-looking man, reaches down to grab the Mandalorian’s legs, as I hang onto his arms. Without a word, we both yank him up and heave him onto the bed.

The other attendant glides swiftly up to me, snapping a pair of gloves on in the process. I catch sight of the male medic shoving a needle into Mando’s leg, administering a med-pack.

“What happened to him?” She asks me. Her soft voice is calm and steady, and it soothes me slightly. I can tell she’s good at this job.

“He was poisoned by this”, I tell her, snatching up the t-shirt and revealing the knife inside it. “From what I can tell, it’s a Dathromirian dagger.”

She takes it from my grasp carefully.

“Take this knife and get it analyzed, stat”, she commands her counterpart, handing over the knife to him.

As the exchange happens, the Mandalorian begins convulsing on the gurney, shaking from side to side. I hear hushed gasps from the crowd.

I put one hand down on his shoulders and squeeze, trying to let him know I’m here. I take the other hand and lift up his shirt, exposing the sickening wound on his side to the medic. She runs her gloved hands over the skin around it, inspecting quietly.

“Can you help him?” I sputter the question out to the woman.

Her hands stop prying at his skin, and she looks up at me.

“We will try. The med-pack may slow the poison down, but we need to get an antidote from that knife.”

“Please hurry”, I beg of her, continuing to press down on his shoulder.

She nods at me, and makes a move towards his head, grasping both her hands under his helmet.

Before she can pull it off, I push her backward, and she nearly falls into the throng of people standing just behind us.

 _“No_ , the helmet stays on”, I warn her, heat rising up to my cheeks.

“It would be easier to assess-”

“The helmet stays _on_ ”, I snarl at her.

She brushes down her shirt and shakes her head at me. My anger is met with the feeling of embarrassment at my inappropriate response, the result showing in the deep flush of red filling my cheekbones.

“I’m sorry, just-please, please help him.”

“Let’s get him to the med-bay”, she says sternly, grabbing hold of the gurney by his feet, prompting me to grab it near his head. I follow her lead into the medical facility, keeping a grip on Mando’s twitching shoulder.

Once we reach the entrance, she halts, proceeding to tell me I need to wait outside.

I immediately protest.

“No, I need to stay with him, I need to-”

“Please, just let us get him the antidote. I’ll come get you as soon as it’s done. We won’t…touch his helmet.”

I want to argue further, but the Mandolorian continues to shake more violently on the bed. I purse my lips and remain silent, forcing a nod at her.

She pulls him into the room, and my hand falls off his shoulder. I lose sight of them, as the door shuts in my face.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

I am now sitting at Mando’s side, holding onto his hand, in one of the small, unassuming rooms of the med-bay.

He remains unconscious, but the breath coming through his filter is calm and steady. I focus on his chest slowly moving up and down, as I mull over the events of the past few hours.

The whole process hadn’t taken long, and my agony over not being in the room with him was short-lived.

The medic had come to get me, letting me know they administered a dose of antidote to him, and he was already doing better. I forced myself to listen to her, nearly delirious with relief, as she explained that he may remain unconscious for a while, until his body fully accepts the medicine, and returns to a regulated state.

I remember nodding at her profusely, so happy that he was okay, and not really caring about much else. They had offered me some food, which I accepted politely, but didn’t eat.

I snap out of it when I hear the door swing open.

In steps a woman, small in stature, but intimidation seeping out of her crisp, clean, grey suit. She eyes me, her nose turning up into a displeased grimace.

It’s the base captain.

“Sky.”

I put my head down and sigh.

“Captain Talpin”, I formally address her.

I can already tell she’s upset.

She makes her way toward the bed. I unwind my fingers from Mando’s hand and cross my legs, trying to appear slightly more professional in her presence.

She takes a seat in the chair next to me, not once taking her eyes off my face.

Inhaling a large breath into her lungs, she settles into the chair, then speaks once again.

“You’ve created quite a stir here today, RS131.”

I attempt to hold firmly with her eye line.

“Captain, I already know what you’re going to say, I-”

“Is that so? Then you already know how reckless you were today. How you jeopardized the safety of not only yourself, but the entire base. Sky, you told us this man was a civilian. _This_ is a Mandalorian.”

Her hand shoots up, pointing an accusatory finger at his prone body lying quietly on the bed.

I begin shaking my head, about to explain, but she doesn’t let me.

“Is he a mercenary? Bounty hunter? Something worse?”

“He’s my friend”, I blurt out to her, not able to form any other sufficient argument right now.

I think she’s going to continue berating me, but instead, she tilts her head, and a slight softness fills her expression.

“Your…friend?”

I lift my head up and down in a heavy nod.

“Exactly how does a Rebel spy become _friends_ with a Mandalorian, I wonder?”

Her question doesn’t seem loaded, but rather…genuine. Curious.

I briefly explain to her the role Mando has played in my life over the past several weeks. How we have both aided each other in our endeavors, how much support he has offered me over the short time I’ve known him. I leave out the more…intimate portions, making my story as convincing as I can.

Afterward, she sighs, looking at both me, and his unmoving form on the bed next to us.

“Sky…I know you flew that ship in here today. I also know, that when you were first brought to us, you told me you never wished to become a pilot. I remember the sadness in your eyes, the fear in your voice, when you told me what happened to your mother.”

My head falls downward, heavy with the newfound feeling of grief. I don’t look up when she speaks again.

“This…this Mandalorian, he must be a good friend indeed. You were willing to go against your own wishes, willing to overcome your fears, in order to help him.”

Head still hanging, I consider her words, realizing she’s right. That had been the only motivation that rang solidly through me earlier today.

_Save the Mandalorian._

“Do you trust him?” she asks me straight on.

I don’t hesitate to respond, lifting my head up high to face her again.

“With my life.”

I reach up to take hold of Mando’s hand again, squeezing gently.

She watches the gesture, wheels turning behind her eyes.

“The commander will not be happy to hear of this. I don’t know if I can allow him to stay here.”

“Captain, please. This man is my friend, therefore an ally to the Republic. Like I said, he’s helped me with missions before, and has proved himself so many times. He…he could be an asset to our cause.”

She lifts her eyebrow up at me quizzically.

“Th-the Razor Crest. It flies off-grid, the Empire won’t be able to track it. That could be useful to us. If you let him stay…I…I will offer the Crest to the Rebel starship fleet.”

“And you will pilot it?”

“I…I will help the Mandalorian pilot it, if I must.” I barely register the last couple sentences that just came out of my mouth, even less aware of the potential consequences my words carry.

Save the Mandalorian. That’s all that matters right now.

“I want to trust your judgement, Sky. And I want to trust this man’s intentions. Mandalorians aren’t known for being allies to our cause, or any cause, really. They hold allegiance to themselves.”

She pauses, inhaling a short breath before continuing.

“This… _relationship_ you have with him is…unusual. I just want you to be sure about your feelings.”

I struggle with what to say, unsure of what connotations her statement implies.

“He-he’s my friend”, I assure her, although my lips are quivering.

“Is that all he is to you?”

I blink a few times at her, straining to push down the burning in my cheeks.

“I will become a pilot. I will stay right here by his side and watch him until he’s okay. I will do anything you ask of me. Just please, let him stay. Let him get better.”

Shockingly, she smiles at me in response, the tension fading out of the room just as quickly as it manifested.

“The Mandalorian can stay here, until he is well”, she announces, standing up out of the chair. “We can discuss what to do with him _and_ his ship, when things settle down.”

“Thank you, Captain.” I nod gratefully at her, letting all the pent up air out of my lungs.

I listen to the soft patter of her feet as she makes her way towards the door, turning her head one last time to face me.

“May the Force be with you both.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Sleep barely finds me that night.

I’ve situated myself right next to the Mandalorian’s side, hardly taking my eyes off of him in his motionless slumber. I squirm uncomfortably in the chair as each hour passes. I know he’s doing better, but until he wakes up, I can’t bring myself to leave him alone.

The sleep deprivation starts to tug in the back of my eyes, the soft rhythm of his breathing lulling me into closing them.

_Just for a few minutes. Just a few._

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Right when morning hits, a ragged gasp comes from Mando’s throat, and we both jolt up out of our respective sleeping positions. My hand finds his quickly, as his helmet shoots around the room.

“Hey, hey, Mando, it’s okay, it’s alright. I’m here.”

The words he stutters out are barely recognizable.

“Tran-Trando…shans…so many…am-ambush. I killed them all…then I-I fell…”

“It’s okay, it’s over now. You’re okay.”

It seems like it takes him just a second to register my presence, eventually grounded by the touch of my hand, and the sound of my voice. His helmet stops to rest on my face, a filtered hum vibrating through the metal, as his tense body eases back down into the bed.

I proceed to explain to him where we are, and how we got here.

Unsure if he knows exactly what happened to him in his fight with the Trandoshans, I tell him he was poisoned by the nasty-looking dagger, unconscious and limp by the time I had found him. I tell him I brought the Crest to the Rebel base, seeking help from the Republic.

Mando still seems… a bit disoriented, and doesn’t say anything throughout my story. Whether he doesn’t want to say much (which is definitely normal), or can’t quite find words yet, he remains silent with me at his side, rambling away about how the medics tried to take his helmet off before I put a stop to it.

I can’t bear to tell him I had to take it off him earlier, when I thought he may have hurt his head. He doesn’t need to know. Not now.

Once I catch my breath, just so happy that I’m able to talk to him again, I offer him a glass of water, turning away as he drinks the entire thing within seconds. Before I can go over the situation with the ship… _his_ ship, he proceeds to pass out, barely setting his helmet down fully on his shoulders before sleep pulls him under again.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

While he remains resting, the medical staff finally convince me to leave the room, get some food, and clean up. Without saying it directly, I think they were really implying, politely, that I needed a shower.

They were right, I had to attend to my own needs eventually.

I pack up my items and haul them to an empty cabin, one equipped with a small bed and fresher. I set everything down and organize a bit, before showering and heading to the mess-hall to grab something to eat.

After quickly scarfing down food, I make my way back to the Crest.

Lingering around the cabin of the ship, I spend some time getting to know the layout better. I give the controls a closer look, study some of the manuals up in the cockpit, scrutinize some loose wiring.

She’s a helluva ship, and it’s my firm belief that her shortcomings are made up entirely by her personality. A relic of times past, she’s been on so many adventures, seen so much in her time with Mando.

_Am I jealous of a ship?_

I spend the rest of the afternoon perusing around the familiar base, chatting with the people I recognize, smiling at those I don’t. I watch some of the lessons being taught in the training room, and I register that I should eventually bring Mando here, once he is more capable of moving. My thoughts falter, as I begin noticing all the new, young faces that are participating in the training. These kids are the future of the New Republic. My spirits lift at the sight.

I stop back at the mess hall to pick up dinner for Mando and me, and direct myself right back to the med-bay.

I settle back into my usual seat at his side, munching on some rather okay-tasting food, only stopping once I hear him stirring beside me.

I help him get out of the bed, and to the fresher. He clings to my shoulder, steadying himself, as he uses his legs for the first time in a while. I make sure to stand up straight and keep my body tense, so he can use me as a solid crutch if he needs to. 

During the time he’s cleaning up, I run back to the Crest to get his armor. I heave the very large bag up to the fresher door and knock, walking away to give him privacy.

Before long, he comes out, fully dressed in his beskar.

It relieves me, to see him like this again.

He looks so…normal like this.

The suit is made for his body, as much as it seems like his body is made for the suit. One in the same. A collaboration of raw human strength, and unbreakable durability. My breath falters just a bit, a tingling sensation creeping through the caverns of my tummy, as I continue looking at his intimidating figure.

And I think… it makes him feel better too. To be in the suit. Less exposed, safe, and comfortable back in his shell, being able to hide from the unfamiliarity that surrounds him.

“How are you feeling?” I inquire, lifting my head sideways to study him.

“I’m…better. I guess.” He rolls his shoulder up and down, letting out a groan. “Still a little, ah-sore.”

“We’ll take things slow here. We can stay until you’re fully recovered.”

“No, I have to get those bounties back to Nevarro”, he resolves sternly.

He makes a move to start walking, but I stop him when he nears me, grabbing the bracer on his arm.

“Mando, you aren’t fully healed yet. We need to wait, just to be safe.”

“I’m fi-”

I quickly shove my hand against his waist, enough for him to feel it, hitting the entrance of the now-healed knife wound. He doubles over and grabs at his side, a grunt escaping his filter.

I look up at him resolutely.

“You _aren’t_ fine. Let’s just…stay a couple more days. I have things I need to figure out before we leave, and _you-_ ”, I wag a finger up at his helmet, trying to sound both playful and sincere at the same time, “need to gather your strength.”

He pulls at his side once again, an angry huff coming through his helmet, but it isn’t directed toward me.

“What is it?” I pry gently, newfound concern flooding my expression.

He stands up straight again, until he is towering over me, and I crane my neck up towards him, waiting for a response.

Another sigh comes through the metal.

“I just- I can’t believe I let this happen”, he gestures back to his torso. “They ambushed me, half a dozen of them. I’m sure they tracked me from the casino…one of their kind had a bounty on his head, and I collected.”

The circumstances surrounding the incident finally start making sense, and I nod at him to continue.

“I-I killed them all, but then…I started to feel it. Burning in my veins. Crawling underneath my skin. The tunnel-vision came on so fast, I couldn’t even get a distress call out to you before I went under.”

_So he did try to contact me. He was calling me for help. Me._

“Mando, there wasn’t anything more you could’ve done. It was just…a freak accident. That cut was so small, he barely nicked you with it. The bastard was just lucky enough to have a poison dagger on him.”

“What if you wouldn’t have been there, Sky? What if you wouldn’t have found me at all?”

I reach for his gloved hand and grasp it in my own, not taking my eyes off his visor.

“I don’t dwell on ‘what ifs’, Mando. We won’t ever know ‘what if’, because I _was_ there, and I _did_ find you. That’s all that matters now.”

I know he doesn’t want to, but he seemingly stops himself from pressing the issue any further, probably still too exhausted. All he uses is a deep sigh in protest, but it doesn’t work. I turn him back to the bed, making him at least sit down and eat before anything else, facing away from him in comfortable silence.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

That night, we spend our time walking around the base. The increased mobility seems to help him, and I feel like I can see him becoming lighter and lighter on his toes while he paces next to me.

This, I decide, is where I need to talk with him about the situation with Captain Talpin, and the Crest. I know he’s going to be upset, so I brace myself next to him, stopping in my tracks, while I attempt to explain away my mistakes.

“Mando, there’s something else…th-the Crest, I-”

He cuts me off before I can really begin.

“I know. I heard you speaking to that woman.”

“Oh, I…didn’t know you were awake”, I say to him in surprise, and slight embarrassment. I’m glad I withheld a little when I answered the captain’s questions.

“I was in and out of it for a while. But I got the gist. You offered the Crest so they would let me stay here.”

I have to replay his words in my head a few times, trying to find where the anger is, but it’s not there. My face twists up, giving him a befuddled look.

“I guess I thought you’d be…more upset?” I squeak out to him, fearing that he’ll perhaps change his attitude, once he realizes he should definitely be angry with me.

“You saved my life, Sky. You vouched for me, and for the ship. You did what you had to do. You always do.”

I beam up at him triumphantly.

He offers such simple words, no frills attached, indicating nothing other than a short sentiment to me. Of course, he’s never had a way with words, never been one to say much of anything, if he even chooses to speak at all. Regardless of the simplicity of his statement, I can hear the gratitude between each syllable, his words hitting me square in the chest, making my heart swell.

“I couldn’t lose you, Mandalorian.”

A huff comes through his helmet, and he bows his head down towards my own, closing the gap between us. My swollen heart continues to flutter, the butterflies taking over when he speaks again softly.

“Having the protection of the Republic for a while might not be a bad deal. We’ll have to go over some terms, though, whenever we talk with the captain. I’ll still need to continue doing _my_ job, if they want me to help them with theirs.”

I reach up and wrap my hand around his bicep, tugging playfully at his arm.

“Once you’re better”, I remind him.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Despite the gentle protests from the Mandalorian for me to sleep in an actual bed, I remain firmly planted in the chair next to him in the med-bay. Fortunately for me and my unwavering stubbornness, he doesn’t have enough strength (or patience) yet to continue arguing with me about it, after I tell him “no”.

“I’m not leaving your side, not at night. Not until I know you won’t seize up and die under that helmet.” I square my shoulders up with him, crossing my arms in an adamant fashion.

He sighs listlessly, and rolls over to sleep.

I follow suit, finally, and very uncomfortably, in the chair for a few hours.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

We spend the next morning together; I sit quietly and eat breakfast, while he does busy work on the inside of the Crest, fixing loose wiring, and tweaking wobbly handles in the cockpit.

Since he’s finally feeling more himself, he’s continually been ancy to speak with the captain, seemingly gaining more and more strength with each passing minute. He’s gotten to the point where he’s able to fully argue with me for the duration of our time on the Crest, and we go back and forth about when we should speak with her again.

Most of his mutterings involve words like “now”, and “immediately”, while my arguments offer summations like “soon”, and “eventually.” It was nice to get back to normal with him. 

We agree on meeting with her the next morning, as long as he could prove to me he was in good shape, good enough to leave. Which, I had told him, was going to involve a late-night session in the training room, a time when no one else would be there, a time we would have to ourselves.

I know him well enough to know the particular grunt that comes through his helmet, means he agrees to my terms.

When evening draws near, I convince him to take up residence for the night in the open cabin next to mine.

I help move his items into the small room next door to me, and leave him to head to the mess hall, returning swiftly to bring him some supper. We eat separately, alone in our respective rooms, as night slowly creeps into the base. When the main lights of the ship go out, I take that as our cue, and slip out of my room to fetch the Mandalorian.

My knuckles knock gently on the sliding door to his cabin, suddenly overwhelmed with an odd nervousness.

I know we’ve always been allowed to be out of the rooms at night, there’s not any rules against it…but this feels different. Clandestine. Secretive. The two of us, me and the Mandalorian, planning a quiet sparring session in the middle of the night.

I gulp when the door slides open.

I know I said before that I love the way he looks in his armor. Large, intimidating, immovable, downright scary. The skill of a full army contained within a metal suit. I know I said that.

But now, as I’m staring at him through the doorway, I start to reconsider.

Along with our agreement to utilize the training room tonight, I had also made him promise to not wear any of his beskar. His ability to move and fight without it on was important, not to mention, I didn’t really want to trade jabs with someone covered head to toe in hard, painful metal.

I look at him now, his helmet in its usual place, but it’s the only piece of his suit that he’s wearing. He’s traded it in for a dark pair of sweatpants, along with a simple black t-shirt, which hugs tightly against his muscular frame.

My insides do a somersault, taking in the new sight of his bare arms.

His caramel skin contrasts delightfully against the blue veins that snake through his forearms, which become even more noticeable as they twist down the sinews of his hands. It’s almost like his skin is straining to contain the muscles hidden underneath, only becoming noticeable when he shifts the position of his limbs. I don’t even realize how long I’ve been staring, until he clears his throat.

I snap up to look at his helmet. I know that _he_ knows I’m gawking, but either he’s too nice, or too uncomfortable to say anything about it.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

We make our way through the silent halls of the base, him walking just a tad behind me, as I lead us to the training facility.

Once we enter the room, I flick on the overhead lights as he walks past me, helmet surveying the large, open area. I follow behind him, my feet meeting with the black mats covering most of the flooring, offering a squishy bounce to my step. We find ourselves in the middle of the arena, facing each other quietly.

I watch him shift his weight onto one side of his hip, a lazy move highlighted more than usual by the lack of beskar hiding his body. The way his soft clothing hugs his tight frame, coupled with the sharp edges of his rigid helmet, give off a strange contrast of comfortable and hard, laid-back and serious, man and Mandalorian.

I like it.

I go through a stretching routine in front of him, trying to maintain a stable demeanor. I want to ignore my straying thoughts of how he looks right now, standing nonchalantly in front of me, but it’s hard, and my skin hums with anticipation.

Standing back upright, I rest myself into a fighting pose, at the ready.

“How are you feeling?” I ask him, bouncing up and down on my toes, gauging how much absorption the mat offers.

“I’m not sure. I might still be a bit fragile.”

A laugh slips loudly out of my throat, catching the sarcasm in his voice.

“Ha! A Mandalorion, calling himself fragile. That’s something I never thought I’d hear.”

I bounce forward at him, landing a soft slap on his shoulder, continuing to shift up and down on the balls of my feet. I can’t keep myself from smiling. Just knowing he’s feeling good enough to joke with me, makes me elated.

He enters a fighting position to match me, just out of my reach, lifting his arms up and balling his bare hands into lazy fists, planting his boots squarely on the soft mat.

We spar together for a while, focusing mostly on footwork. We circle around each other; I shift clockwise, and he moves as well. I shift counter, and he responds, redirecting his weight the other way, always keeping just out of arm’s length.

He seems pretty fluid on his feet, and I take it as a good sign.

After a while, we take to knocking each other’s hands around. I land jabs into his, connecting my fists lightly into the pads of his palms. He swats them away when he has the mind to, and throws soft punches into my hands in return.

As my breathing gets labored, I try moving quicker, as more adrenaline pumps into my veins. I juke back and forth on my feet, switching my direction swiftly. He is able to follow suit, keeping a safe distance.

I jump forward to close the gap, connecting a punch into his open palm, this time with more force. The blow knocks his arm backward. He balls it up into a fist, helmet shifting up to my face.

I smile slyly at him, before lunging again. I land a few solid hits to his hands, forcing him backward with every punch. I swing around and kick my foot upwards, making contact with his chest. He grunts as the wind is knocked out of him.

It takes him a moment to register my unexpected advance on him, but once he does, I can tell I’ve lit a fire beneath his feet. He skews his helmet at me sideways, and I can hear the silent movement saying, _“So you’re gonna be like that, huh?”_

A grin sweeps across my face at the wordless exchange, and heat gathers into the pit of my stomach, emboldening me to leap at him once more.

I unleash a flurry of jabs at him, ones that he blocks consistently with his raised arms. He holds his defensive position well, and I attempt to swing around and land another kick to his chest.

He predicts my move this time, and snatches my ankle in the air with one of his hands. As he holds it in place, his other arm comes down to throw me off balance, but I kick out of his grip, using my momentum to somersault backwards out of his reach. I snap my head up, loose hair flying around my head, just in time to see him charging at me. 

Not used to him being on the offense, I somersault again, rolling out of his way. With him being bigger and taller than me, I know I can’t beat him in head-on combat, so I must rely on my nimbleness to match his strength.

I seem to forget that he’s also fast. _Too_ fast.

He meets me at the end of my roll, and I’m barely standing upright, when he starts barraging me with jabs. They fly past my head as I maneuver out of their way, but one manages to land squarely on the side of my cheek. I fall backward and grab at my face.

“Ouch, shit!” I curse out, although I’m the farthest thing from angry.

I see him stop in front of me, hesitant, no doubt preparing to apologize.

But I don’t let him.

I leap after him again, swiping at him with a few uppercuts that he manages to block. Switching to my feet, I send a roundhouse towards his shoulder that he isn’t anticipating, the side of my foot crashing into his arm. He barely staggers before reaching to grab my leg again, but I swing it out of the way, using my momentum to bring my other leg up, connecting directly with his tender side.

A breathless rasp shoots through his helmet, and he reaches up to grab at his waist, as if in pain.

I falter, realizing the well-placed kick must’ve done more damage than I had wanted it to. I run up to him with an apology ready.

“Mando, I’m sorry, I am so-”

The rest of my sentence never comes out, the sudden blow of his fist to my side preventing everything but a gust of air from escaping my mouth. I stagger backward, realizing now that he faked me out.

He’s completely fine.

Before I can fully catch my breath, he lowers himself downward, sweeping a leg out and knocking my feet from under me. I crash to the mat beneath us, letting out a hoarse grunt.

“Ugh!”

I rub at my sweaty forehead, resigned to just staying on the ground after that, but lifting myself up on my elbows in order to look at him.

“I would say I’m sorry, but you probably wouldn’t accept it anyway”, he says playfully, just as out-of-breath as I am.

“That was a shady move Mando, fucking shady”, I eek out through my panting.

He makes his way over, crouching down on his knees when he’s directly above me. His labored breathing fills my ears now that he’s so close.

“You’re the one who fell for it.”

I lift an eyebrow up at him, energized by his continued jests at me.

“I was worried about you”, I confess, able to maintain just a hint of sarcasm, even though I mean every word.

He offers his hand out to me.

“Don’t be.”

When the ringing in my ears subsides, I smile up at him, taking his words as an invitation. 

With lightning speed, I launch myself out of my seated position, planting my feet directly into his chest. The force of my legs disables him enough that he topples backward, landing on his back with a loud _thud_. He grunts in surprise at the move, and I find myself exactly where I want to be: straddling his waist with my legs, as he lays defeated underneath my weight.

Now that I’m on top of him, I smile down at his helmet, a reaction to both my countermove, and the way he feels under me.

He lifts his arms and sprawls them out over his head, a move indicating he’s accepted his fate, and won’t be fighting anymore.

We both take a moment to collect our labored breathing, before he finally decides to speak.

“Now _that_ was shady.”

The playful energy consuming my body begins to bubble over, and my hand comes up over my mouth in an attempt to stifle my giggle. His helmet shifts up at me when I fail to muzzle the laughter, the pure glee of my voice ringing sharply through the enclosed space.

As I finally come down from my little episode, I quickly remember that I’m still sitting on top of him.

_Shouldn’t he be shooing me off of him?_

Lifting my leg up and over one side, I begin to remove myself from my precarious position. 

My leg is met directly with a hand, one that pushes it back down, and forces me to maintain my seat on his waist. My glance turns toward my thigh, now held unwaveringly tight by his large hand.

My face is flush before I can turn away from him, so instead, I look straight into his visor.

_What is he doing?_

The tension of the moment seeps down into the depths of my body, energizing me into an unusual boldness that I feel the need to capitalize on.

My hand comes down firmly on his chest, feeling the way he takes in deep, long breaths, ones that I can hear clearly through his modulator. My fingers run down the length of his upper-half, tracing my way down the ridges of his ab muscles, until I hit the top of his waistband.

He shudders underneath my touch, and as expected, he grabs my hand, before I can slip it down any farther.

Only…his grip on my hand lingers…

…for longer than I’m used to…longer than it should…longer than-

Ever so slowly, he raises himself into a seated position, his upper-half coming off the floor, until his helmet is level with my face, barely an inch away.

I can see my reflection in his visor; the girl staring back at me holds a simmering confusion in her eyes.

_Isn’t this the part where we stop? Where he pushes me away? Where he removes himself from my touch?_

He eventually releases my hand, but remains still, not trying to get out of the situation in any way, his helmet shooting daggers into my eyes. 

“Mando, I-”

My words are cut off, a gasp replacing them instead, when the Mandalorian suddenly reaches up, and places a thick finger over my quivering lips.

The gesture reads clearly:

_Be quiet._

I close my mouth in response to his touch, feeling my floor muscles tense up the longer his bare finger remains on my lips.

Slowly, as if he has all the time in the world, he drags his finger down my chin, pulling my bottom lip down, until it bounces back up into a pout. He keeps going, tracing a line of what feels like fire down my neck, the rest of his fingers joining themselves together, when he decides to continue down my sternum with his hand, brushing against the fabric of my shirt.

His helmet rolls up to meet my eye line, then back down to where his hand rests in the middle of my chest, then back up to me. His question doesn’t need to be said out loud.

_Is this okay?_

Fearing that somehow a break in the persistent silence will snap us both back to reality, I offer him a wordless answer, grasping his outstretched hand into my own.

_Yes, it’s okay._

I begin dragging his warm hand with mine, tracing down my stomach until we hit the end of my shirt. Without stopping, I dip our hands underneath the hemline, and I can’t stop the gasp from my lips when his fingers finally press against my tummy. His shoulders tense up when I don’t stop there either, guiding his large hand up, firmly planting it over one of my breasts.

We shudder in unison, his entire body going completely rigid at the feel of the pillowy soft flesh, a sharp gasp spilling from his helmet.

Not needing my hand to guide him any longer, he massages my skin back and forth, up and down, playing gently with the giving flesh beneath his strong grip. He takes it upon himself to reach up my shirt with his other hand, and before long, he has me completely under his power, working us both up until we are out of breath, desire flooding every inch of my quaking body.

“Sky _…ngh…_ Sky _…”_

He repeats my name over and over again in a breathless whisper, his hands never stopping their gentle assault on the hills and valleys of my chest.

I start to fall apart under his touch, melting further into him, writhing my hips back and forth, the heat between my legs overwhelming every other sense.

He hisses through his modulator; a primal, crude noise that floods from his filter, a sound that sends my body into a frenzy. I abandon my restraint altogether, ripping off my shirt and tossing it carelessly to the side. His hands are back on me in an instant, caressing and pulling and moaning his way through his exploration of my exposed curves.

I know I’ve been naked with him before, in the shower of the Crest, literally sitting in his lap while he held me close…but _this_ is different. Back then, it was for my benefit only. He had provided me a cautious, withheld comfort that he knew I needed in that moment.

 _This_ though…the way he grabs me and pulls at me tighter and tighter with every squeeze of his strong hands, the way he huffs in needy, short breaths while he rolls my nipples between his fingers-I know this time, it isn’t just for me. This time, he wants it just as much as I do.

He wants to feel, to touch, to be close.

He wants to taste the comfort I’ve only dreamed of giving him, but never felt it was the right thing to do.

His helmet eventually comes to rest directly on my forehead, seemingly unable to bear the weight of his own head any longer.

My ears perk up at the sound of his persistent moans; his face now so unbearably close to mine. So close, that I can feel the warmth from his breathing push out the bottom of his helmet, and onto my skin. His panting is hot, shaky, stunted, filled with a desire that demands to be fulfilled.

I raise my hands, and place them firmly on both sides of his head, forcing him to lower his helmet into my collarbone, while I plant wet, sloppy kisses all over his metal crown.

His hands abandon my breasts, and find a new home on the small of my back. He _pulls_ me even further into his lap, until the cold beskar of his helm pushes into the middle of my sternum, squishing me against his body, leaving me gasping for air. 

“Mando, I-I can’t breathe”, I pant out raggedly, barely even able to recognize my own voice.

He instantly lets go and drops himself backwards, lying down fully on the mat again. His intense grip finds my thighs, and before I can adjust myself properly to his quick movements, his hips start grinding themselves up into me.

Although my lungs are now able to fill up with as much air as they need, my breathing still hitches; I can finally feel how unbelievably hard he is against my center.

Overcome by the new sensation, I begin matching his thrusts with my own, and his needy fingers paw up and down my thighs to try and get a better hold.

“ _Fuck,_ Sky, you feel so _good_ ”, he pushes out through his strained groans. “You feel so fucking good.”

His words of encouragement are enough to nearly send me over the edge, and I can physically feel my underwear flooding with wetness below me.

It’s only a couple layers of clothing, no heavy beskar or jumpsuit getting in the way of me and his throbbing hardness. It would be so easy, to just reach under his pants, between his legs, and take what I’m so desperately aching for.

I start to do just that, lifting up his waist band and running my hand downwards, until I’m…until I-

Suddenly, to my complete dismay, there’s a loud _bang_ , the door to the training room swinging open.

With some of my instincts apparently left intact, I fling myself off of Mando’s body and reach for my shirt, quickly covering my chest with it and whipping my head towards the door.

A look of shock covers the familiar face of the Lasat standing in the doorway, a look that shows he definitely did not expect to walk into whatever the hell is going on between the Mandalorian and me.

“Uhhh, Sky?” He questions through his surprised expression.

“Lorne! Um, hey, I am- I am so sorry Lorne, I uh-”

The sentence comes out a complete mess, and through my labored breaths, I shake my head and try to start over.

“Lorne, th-this is Mando. He and I were having a…training session.”

The total embarrassment from being caught like this overtakes me, and I thank the stars my face is already red from the…um…exercise.

“A training session? Looks like it uh…got a little heated, huh?” Lorne says to me, and I can sense the empathy in his voice. He knows how embarrassed I am, even without seeing me flush.

I look toward Mando, who stays still on the ground, probably still recovering himself, then back to my friend.

“Yeah well, um, we didn’t really mean for it to go this way”, I admit to him, knowing it’s actually the truth.

“Hey, I know how it is Sky, a little late night sparring session in the training room? Come on, haven’t we all been there?” He says jokingly, and my heart lifts just a little at his jesting tone. “Listen, I just heard some scuffling in here while I was on the way to my quarters. Just got back from a mission, later than expected, you know how that goes.”

I nod in acknowledgement at him, and offer an apology.

“I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to be… loud or anything.”

“It’s all good, my friend, just wanted to make sure everything was okay in here. Seems like it was, until I interrupted. I’ll leave you guys alone, and we can catch up later?”

I close my eyes at the sound of Lorne’s words, thankful that it was him that found us, instead of someone else, someone less inclined to be okay with this situation. 

“That sounds great, but actually, I think we’re done for the night.”

I make a move to stand up, and the Mandalorian does the same, until we are both awkwardly on our feet again, maintaining a safe distance from each other.

“All the same Sky, let’s catch up soon.”

I nod in gratefulness.

Before Lorne turns around to leave, his eyes land on Mando just for a moment.

“I’ve never met a Mandalorian before, but I’ve heard the tales. Warriors- fearless, strong, and loyal. If the stories are true, you’ll look after her”, he says fervently, shifting his eyes at me in indication, then breezing out the door.

A lingering tensions remains in the now-quiet room, and I glance up at Mando, attempting to gauge how he’s feeling. He shifts his body to face my direction, but his visor never meets my face.

“I’m tired, let’s…let’s get some rest”, he announces, nodding his head sideways towards the exit.

“Okay.”

I let him take the lead as we pass down the hallways, back to our chambers. I don’t dare match his pace and walk next to him, unsure of both myself, and what exactly just transpired between us. Once we arrive at our respective doors, I think he’s going to just keep walking, without looking back. I resign myself to my room, reaching to hit the button to unlatch the door.

“Sky.”

His voice makes me stop in my tracks, and I turn to face him, seeing that he’s walking back over toward me. I immediately tense up at his approach, not knowing what to expect from him.

He stops in front of me, just a few inches away. With this closeness, he towers over me, and I strain to look up at his face, the darkness blurring the lines between his visor and the rest of the helmet.

“Yes?”

I thought I said the word like a question, but he doesn’t respond. He just stands there, hovering above me, his dark silhouette dwarfing me by comparison.

He remains silent, but I start to feel tingly again, hair pricking up on my arms in response to the vibes he’s giving off. My mind starts to fill with the possibilities of what he’s thinking.

_Is he angry? Is he uncomfortable? Is he just as wound up as I am?_

Between the metal suit closing him off on all sides, and the darkness of the command base, he is an unreadable figure in the night.

I nearly work up the strength to reply again, but he speaks first.

“I…I wanted to thank you for saving my life the other day. You overcame your fear, went against your own best interest...for me. You helped me regain my strength over the past few days, watched over me, took care of me. I…I’m very grateful for that. I am…grateful for you. So, thank you.”

My heart leaps up into my throat, and before I can choke it back down, I see Mando’s hand move in the dark.

Ever so tenderly, he runs his hand into my hair, hooking a loose strand behind my ear. I wonder if he can feel the blush burning into my cheeks, as his hand lingers on the side of my face.

_How can someone so strong be so gentle?_

A sigh escapes me, and I reach up to grab his wrist, securing his hold on my cheek, closing my eyes while I melt into his blazing hot palm.

I can feel him shudder at the warm contact. Thoughts flood my mind again, and I try shouting to him in my own head, not having the nerve to speak out loud.

_Come to bed with me. Come with me._

I hear him groan, almost as if he’s in pain, and his hand tenses up against my cheek, pulling my head gently until it rests against the front of his helmet.

“We should…we should really get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

_He’s right. He’s definitely right. And yet…_

“You’re right.”

_God dammit, Sky._

Completely forsaking my own desires, I end up agreeing with him, too much of a coward to initiate anything further.

He let’s go of my face, far too soon, and I feel the air shift slightly when he turns away, calling back to me over his shoulder. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

His words wrap around my heart, and squeeze hard. 

_I’ll see him in the morning._

_No more leaving. No more goodbyes._

_Not this time._

“I’ll see you then.”


End file.
